


By Any Other Name

by cardinalstar



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roleswap, Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gray!Barry, Lightning Rods, M/M, MetaCop!Len, Metahuman Prejudice, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Social Justice Barry, Team as Family, The Rogues - Freeform, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 239,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6162004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalstar/pseuds/cardinalstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since gaining ice powers in the wake of the particle accelerator explosion, Detective Leonard Snart has been on the front lines of the CCPD’s fight against metahuman crime.  At first, the Flash is just another in a long line of superpowered criminals, but the arrival of the Scarlet Speedster brings new problems for Central City’s finest.  Len soon finds himself in an odd stalemate with the enigmatic metahuman who's making a place for himself in the criminal underground - and who also seems determined to become Len’s friend.  </p><p>Len is sure he’s got all the weird he can deal with – until he meets Barry Allen, newly-transferred assistant CSI from the CCPD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brave New World

While little seemed altered on the surface, Detective Leonard Snart knew better than most that in the wake of the particle accelerator explosion, Central City had become a far stranger hometown than he’d believed possible. 

“Remind me again,” he grunted as he ducked into the back seat of the squad car.  “We’re going to apprehend a metahuman, at a grocery store robbery.”

“Yep,” said Detective West from the front seat. 

“In broad daylight.”

“Seems like it,” sighed Detective Thawne, looking over his shoulder at Len with a wry smile.  “I guess superpowers make people cocky.” 

“Not cocky, Detective,” Len corrected.  “Just careless.” 

Thawne grimaced and turned to face forward as Detective West steered the car into traffic and flicked on the sirens.  Cars parted before them like the Red Sea, squeezing to the side and allowing them a clear, speedy path to the crime scene. 

Len stared out the window, his expression pensive.  Some things in Central _had_ changed. 

He couldn’t help but remember Harrison Wells’ speech eight months ago – his second public appearance in the wake of the disaster, and his first since Len had been discharged from the hospital.  Normally, Len made it a point to attend these sorts of major speeches in person – it was better to be informed – but his newly-developed powers had prevented that. He’d watched the event from Lisa’s couch, wrapped in blankets to prevent the chill under his skin from seeping into the rest of the house. 

 _“A brave new world,”_ Wells had called this new Central City.  Lisa had snorted, and Len had agreed with her.  He still did.  He had recovered from his accident, and if his abilities came with some drawbacks, he still counted himself among the fortunate.  People had died.  Harrison Wells would never recover the use of his legs, nor STAR Labs its scientific credibility.  And the jury was still out on the rest of the city. 

Central’s citizens were scared, and Len honestly couldn’t fault them for it. 

They swung into the parking lot of the grocery store, stopping next to the other squad car that had arrived before them.  Detective West let Len out of the backseat.  “Do we know anything about the metahuman?” Len asked as he slid out of the car. 

“He’s crazy strong,” West supplied.  “Store clerk said he ripped into an ATM like it was made of tinfoil.  And Officer Doyle swears he’s bulletproof.” 

“Peachy,” Len huffed.  No wonder they’d called him in.  “Any injured?”

“One,” Thawne replied.  “The meta got ahold of an employee, busted up his ribs pretty good.  Anderson was able to get him out.” 

“Good.  Here’s the plan.”  Len pulled off his gloves and folded them up before placing them in his vest pocket.  “I go in.  Contain the metahuman, then call for backup.  No other officers in the building until I give the all-clear.” 

The first few times they’d done this, Len’s fellow officers had refused to send him into metahuman encounters alone.  Now, they accepted his lead without question. 

It was funny, Len reflected as he strode through the store’s busted-up shopfront, calling ice to his fingertips as he moved, just how much eight months could change things.

* * *

 

One of Len’s least favorite things about metahuman encounters was the collateral damage.  Standoffs with criminals were always messy, but metahumans seemed more prone than most to leaving destruction in their wake. 

Their would-be burglar was no exception, Len thought as he picked his way through the grocery store aisles.  Smashed wine bottles littered the floor; Len nudged broken glass out of the way with the toe of his boot.  On a hunch, he checked the refrigerated display cases that were generally stocked with beer and hard cider.  Several cases appeared to be missing, and there were two popped beer caps laying on the floor. 

Len frowned.  An intoxicated metahuman would be easier to catch, as long as he didn’t go on a rampage. 

A crash from the rear of the store drew Len’s attention.  As he moved toward the source of the noise, he reached instinctively for his gun before remembering that their metahuman was supposedly bulletproof.  Only powers, then.  Disable and contain. 

Len found the metahuman in an alcove near the restrooms next to a broken window, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.  He was clearly trying to make a break for it; he needed to be stopped, before he barreled into the waiting arms of the officers outside.  “End of the line,” Len called, taking a calculated risk.

It worked; the metahuman paused, turning to face Len with a smirk.  “Whatcha gonna do, old man?  Shoot me?  Don’t know if you’ve heard, but that doesn’t work so hot on me anymore.”  A dull, gunmetal-grey sheen spread across the man’s skin, and Len’s eyes narrowed.  _Young, built like a tank, short hair, tattoos, skin can turn into metal.  Overconfident,_ he decided.  _His armored skin makes him durable but will slow him down._

Len raised his hands.  “Then it’s a good thing I like it cold,” he said, and shot. 

Thin streams of cold left Len’s fingertips, coalescing into a bolt of ice that slammed into the other metahuman’s right foot.  “What the hell?” the man gasped.  “They’ve got muties on the force?  How the hell’d you get in?” 

“Trade secret,” Len replied, icing the man’s left foot to the floor as well.  Better safe than sorry. 

Len froze the broken window over for good measure, then set off for the front of the store.  Containment was going to be an issue; the metahuman would easily be able to damage a squad car.  Perhaps a sedative would be able to keep the man under until they were able to take him to Iron Heights. 

Len rubbed his hands together, trying to get some warmth back into them.  He passed by the wine aisle, glancing briefly at the broken bottles – then he paused. 

The broken glass had been scattered, and there were footprints leading down the aisle.  Prints that Len hadn’t left, and that were too small to belong to the metahuman Len had captured. 

There was someone else in the store. 

He smelled ozone, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.  “Who’s there?” he called. 

Behind him, there was the sound of tinkling glass. 

Before Len could turn, he was thrown forward through space with a violent lurch.  He got an impression of wind and blurry color, dizzying speed –

-before he was flung onto hard cement, sliding to a stop on his back, staring up at the sky. 

 _What the hell?_ Len clambered to his feet, stomach lurching with vertigo left in the wake of – whatever that had been.  His eyes flicked about, taking in the new scenery – he was looking down on parked cars, the flashing lights of police cruisers visible below.  He was on the roof.  The roof of the grocery store.  But how had he gotten there? 

Len felt a rush of air at his back, and whirled just in time to get a glimpse of a red blur before he was knocked to the ground again.  _Damn.  Two metahumans in one day._

This time, he didn’t try to rise right away.  He’d never run across this particular metahuman before, and he knew nothing about them; better to bide his time, look for weaknesses while his opponent – whoever they were – continued to expend unnecessary energy using their powers. 

Maybe the new arrival was fond of grandstanding.  “You gonna quit zipping around this rooftop and tell me what you want?” Len called.  No metahuman he’d ever encountered would turn down an opportunity like that. 

The flickers of lightning on the roof dissipated, condensing into the shape of a man, and Len suppressed a smile.  _There we go._

Now that Len could see him properly, he found himself a bit torn.  The metahuman didn’t look particularly imposing – he was tall, but lean, and dressed in some sort of ridiculous red costume that made him look like a cross between a bank robber and a Saturday morning cartoon.  At the same time, Len had already been on the receiving end of the man’s powers twice.  He had no desire to go in for a third round, not until he knew more about what made this one tick. 

“So what brings you to this fine establishment?” Len began.  Better to get the metahuman talking; then he’d distract himself long enough for Len to figure out an angle. 

“Funny,” said the other man, his mouth twisting beneath the mask.  “I was about to ask you the same question.  I haven’t seen you around before.” 

The metahuman’s voice was guarded and layered with anger, but he sounded – _young._ “Then you haven’t been looking, kid,” Len replied.  “I’ve been here.” 

“Then you should know that I happen to like this store,” said the metahuman, darting across the rooftop so that Len was forced to turn to keep him in his sights.  “A lot.  It’s got good sushi.  And I don’t appreciate you icing the place up.” 

Len slowly lowered his hands to the rooftop, watching in satisfaction as a thin layer of frost spread to coat the asphalt.  “Don’t care, kid.  I’ve got a job to do and you’re keeping me from it.  If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to get out of my way.” 

“Can’t do that,” the metahuman said.  The figure blurred into a red streak - _damn, he was fast_ - and headed straight for Len, trailing electricity behind him. 

Len allowed himself to smile.  _Perfect._

As soon as the speedster’s feet came into contact with the rapidly-expanding patch of frost, he slipped and lost his balance, hitting the ground hard.  “Ow,” he groaned. 

Len hit the metahuman in the thigh with an ice blast.  “Whoops.” 

Len knew, objectively speaking, that getting hit with his ice could hurt – a lot.  He’d intended the shot to incapacitate the speedster, slow him down and prevent him from making a quick getaway.  But the other metahuman’s cry of pain made it seem like the world was ending.  Either the kid had a flair for the dramatic, or Len had hurt him badly – worse than he’d expected. 

Len pulled out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed the speedster to the fire escape.  He must have been in a lot of pain, because his token protests were slow and Len was easily able to swat his hands aside.  “I’ll be back to deal with you later.” 

“You froze my leg,” the metahuman mumbled, staring up at Len in indignation.  “And you handcuffed me to a pipe.” 

Len couldn’t handle this conversation.  He had another meta waiting for him downstairs.  He wrenched open the door to the rooftop and began his descent. 

As he emerged at the bottom of the staircase, he nearly ran straight into Detective Thawne.  “Snart?” he said, his eyes widening.  “How did you get up there?” 

“I was… carried,” Len replied carefully.  “There was another metahuman in the grocery store.”  He noted Detective Thawne’s unholstered weapon, the slight smell of gunpowder that hung around him.  “Please tell me the other one is where I left him.” 

Detective Thawne sighed.  “Afraid not.  As soon as he got his foot clear of the ice, he made a break for it.  Ran straight through the back of the store.  We’ll get him, though,” he said to Len encouragingly.  “There’s tons of security camera footage we can use to track him down.” 

As he headed back to the rooftop to retrieve the captured speedster, Len supposed, in the end, that at least none of his officers had been hurt.  That had to count for something. 

When he reached the top of the stairwell, the other metahuman was gone, the handcuffs broken and discarded on the ground. 

* * *

 

Barry shouldered his way through the front door of Jitters, making sure to protect the grocery bag in his arms from impacting against the frame.  He did a quick sweep of the room - plenty of people, plenty of noise and activity.  Perfect.  He’d be able to talk to Iris here without attracting any attention or suspicion.  

His best friend was behind the counter, talking to a customer while she put the finishing touches on a drink.  She looked up at the sound of the bells over the door, and when she caught his eye she smiled.  Barry slid into his usual seat in the corner and waited as she passed her apron over to her coworker and approached him with two small coffee cups in hand.  

“One mocha for me, one Americano for you.” Iris set one cup in front of Barry and hopped into the chair across from him.  “Half-caf,” she added with a teasing smirk.  “Your heart beats fast enough as it is.”

Barry rolled his eyes, but he was already smiling.  “Iris, you know caffeine doesn’t do anything to me anymore.”

“It’s a small price to pay for my peace of mind,” she retorted with a quick grin, and Barry reflected - not for the first time since he’d woken up from his coma - that two years in Starling away from her had been too long, unwanted crush or no.  “So what happened?” she asked him, lowering her voice and leaning closer.  “I got your voicemail when I was on break, you sounded pretty beat-up.  Did you at least go back to STAR Labs?”  

“I only had a few scratches,” Barry protested.  “You know what they’re like when I get hurt.  Caitlin and Cisco are great, but they flutter around me like I’m made of glass.  And Dr. Wells always looks… disappointed?  Like someone stole his steak dinner and replaced it with a ham sandwich.”  

“Aaand that’s how I know that you’re hungry,” Iris sighed, smiling.  “You always start in on the food metaphors.  What’s in the bag?”  

“A light snack.”  Barry grinned, pulling out three eight-piece containers of sushi and setting them on the table.  “Salmon, spicy tuna, and shrimp tempura.  Plenty of protein, plenty of calories.”  

Iris raised her eyebrows.  “That sounds good.  I’m glad you’re eating better, even if your food choices are a bit… expensive.  Where did you get them?” she said suddenly, leaning closer and narrowing her eyes.  “That place on Fifth, the one with the faulty camera system and the string of unexplained burglaries?”  

Her tone was light, but her gaze was piercing.  Barry grimaced.   _Caught again._

His silence was all the answer she needed.  She sighed.  “Barr, we’ve talked about this.  Why can’t you have the STAR Labs team whip you up more of those high-calorie meals?”

“Iris, I don’t want their charity,” Barry sighed.  “I know I'll have to get more from them eventually, but they saved my life - I already owe them enough.  The sushi really isn’t that bad - if it’s not eaten by the end of the day, the store would have to throw it out.  And I’m going back there tonight to fix their awning.  If it makes you feel better, I’ll stock the shelves while I’m at it.”  

“I know it isn’t the end of the world, and I care more about you than some grocery store.”  Iris gripped Barry’s wrist.  “But I hate seeing you steal.  You’re better than that.”  

Barry wasn’t entirely sure she was right, but there were few things he hated more than seeing Iris sad.  “You’ve got a point,” he conceded.  “But Iris, I eat _tens of_ _thousands_ of calories a day.  I can’t afford to feed myself, especially not once I find an apartment and have rent to pay.”  

Iris’ eyes widened.  “Barr, if you’re really set on not going back to Clarissa’s right now, you should move in with Dad!”  A tiny chill ran down Barry’s spine, but before he could argue Iris forged ahead.  “I know things have always been a bit… weird between the two of you.  But he was _really_ worried about you when you were in your coma.  You don’t have to tell him about being a metahuman, but if you ask him to stay, he’ll say yes.”  

Barry looked out the window, considering.  Living with Joe would be problematic - he’d have to keep his late-night comings and goings a secret, for one thing, and it would be hard to explain why he was eating the man out of house and home.  But Joe trusted him, and living with a cop would definitely help keep his secret identity out of the public eye.  Plus, if he needed to be gone for a couple of days, he could just tell Joe that he was visiting Clarissa, or seeing his friends in Starling City.  

“I’ll think about it,” he conceded, and was relieved when Iris smiled.  “But money’s still an issue.  I can’t ask Joe to feed me.”  

“Then get a job, silly,” Iris sighed.  “I know you love being a vigilante, but it doesn’t pay anything.  You should check with the CCPD and see if they need any assistant CSIs.”  The corners of her mouth lifted in a fond, but exasperated, smile.  “If Starling needed your expertise as much as you say they did, I’m sure the department here would hire you.”  

Most of Barry’s best work in Starling had been done with the Arrow, but he wasn’t in any hurry to tell Iris that.  “I don’t think the police officers here in Central would be eager to work with an Allen.”  

Iris gave him a _look._ “They’re not as biased as you think.  Look at Detective Snart - his dad is in prison _and_ he’s a metahuman, and the department loves him.”  

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Wait, they actually hire metas at CCPD?”

“He had the job before the particle accelerator explosion,” Iris amended.  “But once he developed ice powers, the force was eager to have him stay.”

She continued talking, but Barry was no longer with her.  His eyes unfocused as he ran through the encounter he’d had with the metahuman on the roof.  If the ice powers weren’t a dead giveaway - how many frozen-fingered metas could there be in Central City? - his arrival time had been closely correlated with the response of the police.  He hadn’t thought to consider the angle that the other man might be a police officer himself, but based on the new information from Iris it seemed like a definite possibility.  

“Barry!” Iris shouted.

He jumped.  “What?”  

“I’ve said your name four times!  What’s wrong?  I mentioned Detective Snart and you zoned out on me!”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.  Do you know anything more about Snart?”

Iris eyed him suspiciously.  “Yeah, I interviewed him for class a few weeks before you woke up.  Why?”

Barry sighed.  “Because I’m pretty sure he’s the metahuman who kicked my ass on a rooftop about an hour ago?”

“Barry Allen.”  Iris glared at him, and he shrank in his seat.  “Are you telling me that you were involved in an altercation with the _police?_ ”

“I had no idea he was a cop!” Barry protested.  Iris’ eyes widened and she made a shushing motion; with a guilty grimace, Barry lowered his voice.  “I thought he was just another meta looking for a fight!”  Then again, he’d had handcuffs.  Barry mentally kicked himself. 

“How on earth did he manage to kick your ass?” Iris hissed, stabbing a finger at him.  “I thought you were fast enough to avoid those kinds of hits - it’s the only reason I haven’t chewed you out over this vigilante thing to begin with!”

Barry bristled.  “I am fast enough!”  And it was true – on top of being cautious, he was simply too fast for most non-powered criminals to pose a threat.  Generally he’d case the scene, flash in and disable the criminal, and escape before things got serious.  It was what he would have done with Snart, had the other meta’s powers not posed an unexpected problem.  “It was basic physics, Iris - he’s got ice powers, I have super-speed.  Aside from the… friction issues, cold temperatures reduce average kinetic energy.  I couldn’t run fast enough to fight him.”  

Iris still looked angry, but to Barry’s relief her glower gradually subsided to a thoughtful look.  “It sounds like he’s going to be a problem, Barr,” she sighed.  “You’ll have to be more careful now that he knows about you.”  

“Yeah, well, now at least I know some things about him too.  What’s his first name?”

Iris’ lips twitched.  “Leonard.”  

“You’re kidding me,” Barry said, grinning.  “His name is actually _Leonard Snart?_  That’s even worse than Bartholomew!”

“I know!” Iris chuckled.  “He almost wouldn’t let me print it, he kept insisting that I call him Detective.  I have the interview if you want to read it.”  

“Yeah, about that.”  The wheels in Barry’s head were turning.  “I’ll read it, but I think I’m going to need to gather my own intel.”  

Iris raised an eyebrow.  “And how are you going to do that?  You just said that the two of you got into a fight!  He’s not going to talk to you.”  

“He might not want to talk to the Flash,” Barry said, smirking as Iris rolled his eyes at the mention of his self-appointed vigilante codename.  “But I doubt he’ll have a problem talking to Barry Allen, newly-hired assistant CSI at the CCPD.”  

Barry watched Iris’ facial expression morph from confused to horrified as she figured out what he was thinking.  “Oh no. Barry, absolutely not.”

“It’ll be great!”  Barry bounced excitedly in his seat.  “I’ll talk to my boss back in Starling and get the transfer set up.  This is perfect, Iris - I can make money doing a job I’m good at, and learn more about Snart at the same time!”  

Iris sighed.  “This is not what I meant when I said you needed a job.  I’m guessing I won’t be able to talk you out of it?”  When Barry shook his head, she rested her hand on the table next to his.  “Then I’ve got your back.  Maybe I can get my dad to pull some strings too.  Just… Promise me that you’ll be careful.”  

“Come on, Iris, it’s me.”  Barry touched the back of her hand, smiling as earnestly as he could.  “You know I’m always careful.”  

“Ooh, I really wish you hadn’t said that.  This is going to be a disaster,” Iris muttered.  

Barry, already lost in cheerful contemplation of his new employment prospects, pretended not to hear.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I posted a multi-chaptered fic, but I've been having a lot of fun with this AU. I'll do my best to update this regularly - right now I'm aiming for an update a week, but if I end up writing faster than I expect, there will be more frequent updates. I'd love to know what you think, so any comments or kudos would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	2. Close Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow - I was blown away by the response to the first chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos! Knowing people were interested in what I was writing was super motivational, and I can say with confidence that I wouldn't have been able to write this chapter so quickly without your feedback. 
> 
> Enough of my rambling, though. Here's Chapter 2! I hope you enjoy. :)

Monday morning at the precinct was an early one, and Len was grateful for his coffee.  It had become his habit to drop by the Motorcar before work and pick up a to-go cup before heading to the station; the diner’s food may have been crap, but coffee was coffee.  He had to wait until it was lukewarm before he could comfortably drink it, but in the meantime the warm cup felt soothing in his hands. 

The low buzz of conversation stilled briefly when Len walked through the front door, and Len suddenly became even more grateful that he had his caffeine already on hand.  Today was undoubtedly going to give him a headache. 

It was always like this after a metahuman attack.  By this point, Len had mostly grown accustomed to the routine.  In a couple of days the other officers would forget that he wasn’t an ordinary human anymore, and everything would be back to normal.  At least until the next time Len was called on for damage control. 

Len walked into Captain Singh’s office without knocking, then paused when he saw that the other man was on the phone.   “That sounds fine,” he said, giving Len a brief nod.  “I’ll make sure everything he needs is transferred over.  Thank you, Captain.”  Singh replaced the phone on the receiver and turned to Len.  “Did the weekend help?” he said without preamble. 

“Some,” Len replied tersely.  “A lead would have helped more.”  It had annoyed him, staying away from the station while less-qualified cops looked over Friday’s cases.  If Lisa hadn’t insisted on going to the station, he’d have gone in to work the files himself, paid leave be damned. 

Singh sighed.  “We’ve got a name on the metahuman, but not much else.  Your sister will be able to fill you in better.  I’m up to my ears in paperwork, between the bombing and our new transfer.” 

“Transfer.  Another detective?” Len said, raising an eyebrow.  That would be the icing on the cake today, Singh trying to set him up with another partner. 

“Not this time,” Singh said, eyeing him wryly.  “A new assistant CSI.  From Starling City of all places.” 

Len hummed thoughtfully.  A new CSI would be useful, as long as they were prepared to deal with metahumans.  It was over six hundred miles from Starling to Central – quite the distance for a transfer.  Not unheard of, but transfers from Coast or Keystone, like Detective Thawne, were more likely to be familiar with Central’s situation.  “I’m sure my sister will be grateful for the help,” he settled on replying.  “Now if you don’t need me here, I’ll go check in with Lisa.” 

The captain nodded.  “Try not to worry about the metas too much, Detective,” he said, returning his attention to the stack of papers on his desk.  “We’ll get them both soon enough.”

As Len passed the ground floor offices on the way to the back stairwell, he saw Thawne talking to Vulkovitch and gave them a nod.  Thawne smiled in response; Vulkovitch narrowed his eyes for a second, but eventually nodded back.  He felt their eyes on him as he walked away. 

Len took a sip of his coffee and grimaced.  It was still too hot.

He drank a few gulps anyway, making a mental note to tell Lisa that they were leaving the station for lunch today.

* * *

 

When Len stepped through the door of his sister’s lab, the temperature instantly dropped ten degrees.  Central City’s finest may have gotten a slightly bigger budget this year, but there wasn’t enough heating power in the world to make the basement space warm enough for a normal human.  But Len wasn’t normal anymore, and since developing his ice powers he’d become fond of the frigid lab.  “Lisa,” he called.  “You here?”  

Lisa peeked around a set of filing cabinets.  “Over here.”  When her gaze settled on him, she rolled her eyes.  “God, Lenny.  Can’t you at least pretend to suffer through winter with the rest of us mortals?  That is a summer shirt.”

Len pushed up the sleeves of his dress shirt – a powder-blue button-down that had been a birthday present last year – for dramatic effect.  “Can’t help my biology, sis,” he said with a smirk. 

“Then put a coat on. I’m getting chilly just looking at you.”  

Len raised an eyebrow.  “I don’t need a coat.  But I think you need to _cool_ it.” 

Lisa put her head in her hands.  “That was terrible.” 

Len smiled, feeling the worst of his tension drain away.  It was always nice when he was able to sneak away from the bustle of the ground floor and spend time with his sister.  “Sure it was,” he said.  “Anything on our newest metahumans come in over the weekend?”  

“Do you even have to ask?”  Lisa said, pulling a thin file from a stack and pushing it across the desk with a smile.  “The grocery store robber’s name is Tony Woodward.  Typical high school delinquent – underage drinking, couple of aggravated assault charges.  Last known place of employment was Keystone Ironworks.  Given the metal skin, I can only assume that’s where he got his abilities, but that’s all I know.” 

“Any way of locating him?” Len asked.

“Not yet,” Lisa huffed.  “I put out an APB on the getaway car – a yellow Hummer, absolutely no taste – but believe it or not, nothing’s turned up.  No known place of residence either.  We’ll just have to keep working it.” 

Len nodded.  “And what about our man in red?” 

“Even less,” Lisa replied, crossing over to the computer station and opening a few files.  Len tilted his head toward the screen and saw a picture of a red blur passing by a police car.  “One of the beat cops managed to get this as the meta was fleeing the scene.  Not much use, but at least there’s proof that you weren’t alone on that rooftop.”  

Len hummed thoughtfully.  He hadn’t expected much, but it was disappointing to see that their investigations had turned up nothing.  “Not often that I know more about a metahuman than the scientists.”  

“Try not to get used to it,” Lisa said with a brief flash of teeth.  “Do you think you can add anything to our tiny file?”  

Len considered.  There hadn’t been much time for observation during their fight, but he had noticed a few things.  “Definitely male.  A little over six foot, and young – late twenties to early thirties, if I had to guess,” he said.  “Athletic, but thin – like a runner.” 

Lisa smirked.  “So, even if he is a punk, he’s built straight and narrow.  Well that’s something,” she said, ignoring Len when he rolled his eyes heavenward.  “Did you get a look at his face?”

“No.  He was wearing some sort of… skintight costume.  Looked like leather.  There was a hood that covered his face.”  He’d been able to see the other man’s mouth, briefly, when they had fought on the rooftop - lips curved up in a confident smirk that had vanished when Len had iced a good portion of his leg and torso.  

Lisa raised her eyebrows, smiling in the way that made Len slightly wary.  “So he’s less mutie and more _cutie,_ hmm?”

 _Not this again._  “I thought you were done sleeping with criminals.”  

That earned him a glare.  “Roscoe Dillion was a mistake and a one-time thing.  And if you’ll recall, _brother_ , I had no qualms about helping you toss his ass in a cell.  Besides,” she added, “my latest interest is definitely on the straight and narrow.  Have you met the new assistant CSI?”

Len raised an eyebrow.   “Lis, we’re at work.  You’re his boss.”  

“I know that, Lenny, I’m not an idiot!” she sighed, glaring at him in annoyance.  “I was _going_ to say that he’s got a cute geeky friend, that’s all.  Although he’s not bad to look at himself.”

Len took a small sip of his coffee before moving to divert the conversation away from his sister’s love life.  “What’s the CSI’s name?”

Lisa’s expression sobered.  “Barry.  His full name is Bartholomew _Henry_ Allen.”  

Len winced.  “Rough.  Almost as bad as mine -” he paused as he realized what Lisa had said, what she was implying.  “Henry Allen.  As in, Doctor Allen’s son?”

“The same,” Lisa said.  “I checked.  And what’s more, he was in an accident the same night you were.  It happened right upstairs, actually – he was at the station giving a statement when the accelerator blew.  You two were ambulance buddies.”  

Len tilted his head.  More and more interesting.  “So he was affected by the particle accelerator.  Is he a metahuman?”  

“Unlikely.  Apparently Allen was in a coma until a few weeks ago, so I’m sure they checked him over at the hospital.  But other than checking general physical fitness, CCPD doesn’t have access to medical records.  At least we haven’t completely fucked that up yet,” Lisa said, picking up a file that was sitting on top of her desk and thumbing through it.  “I think he’ll do fine here.  He used to work in Starling City, which is a weird enough place, so hopefully metahuman crime won’t be too much of a stretch for him.”  She smiled.  “The higher-ups transferred him practically overnight.  He’s young, but apparently some sort of genius - reclusive, but he gets his work done.  Sounds a bit like you,” she said, picking up several files and handing them to him with a playful nudge.  “Give those a look-over, I’m going to finish up one of these SOEC kits before lunch.  You want to go to the corner store today?”  

Len’s lips twitched.  “Fine with me.  I’ll eat anywhere as long as it’s not here.” 

As his sister worked, Len thumbed through the files in his stack.  For the most part, they were more of the usual - various reports of crimes committed throughout Central, mostly related to metahuman activity.  There were fewer cases than usual today.  He checked them over methodically, looking for familiar names and faces.  Several times he asked Lisa for confirmation about a case, but most of the past week’s criminals were people that Len had run into before.  

The new arrival from the rooftop was a conspicuous exception.  Hopefully new information about the leather-clad speedster would turn up soon.  

“You know,” Lisa chimed in after several minutes of silence, “I really am glad that Barry is working here now.  I can give him all the grunt work.”  

Len nodded thoughtfully.  “Means fewer late nights at the station processing rape kits.”

“Exactly.  Plus it’s been a while since we saw any new faces around here,” she said, giving Len a pointed look.  

Len knew that look.  “Lisa, no.”  

“You never talk to anyone at the office,” Lisa sighed, dropping all pretense.  “You need more friends.”  

“Not interested.  Don’t like cops.”  

“It might have escaped your attention, but _you’re_ a cop,” Lisa retorted, scowling.  “And Barry is not a cop, he’s an assistant CSI.  There’s a big difference.”  

Len turned back to his files.  There was no arguing with Lisa when she got stuck on an idea, and he hadn’t finished his coffee yet.  Best thing to do would be to ride it out, then discuss things further over lunch.  Or, if he got lucky, not discuss them. 

“He’s probably pretty lonely,” Lisa said cheerfully behind him.  “Seeing as he’s the son of a convicted murderer.  Some of these cops probably helped to put his dad away.  Seems like a pretty screwed-up working environment if you ask me.”  

Len sighed as he felt his conscience prick at him.  “I’m here to do my job, Lis, not make friends.”  

“It couldn’t hurt anything,” Lisa said.  She could probably sense his resolve weakening.  “And how often do you get to profile one of my coworkers?  It’ll be fun.”  She flashed him a winning smile.   

Len was a forty-two year-old-man.  He didn’t go in for cute.  But damn if his little sister couldn’t find a way to get him every time.  

“Fine,” he huffed.  “I’ll talk to him.  But just this once.”

Lisa beamed, and Len found himself wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

* * *

 

By the time Len returned to the station from his lunch break, he was already regretting everything.   _How did she talk me into this?_ he thought as he climbed the stairs to the second-floor lab - Allen’s lab now, since his sister still preferred her frigid basement space.  

She’d even convinced him to bring the new guy a sandwich.  Something about _goodwill gestures_ and _positive working environments_.  Len hoped that the other man liked ham subs, or this would be an even bigger waste of his time.  

Still scowling, he stepped into the lab and caught his first glimpse of Barry Allen.

The assistant CSI was sitting at his desk with his back to Len, working on what looked like some sort of program.  Len could hear his fingers clattering over the keys and took a step closer; his typing speed was impressive, to say the least.  Allen was wearing a sweater over some sort of collared shirt, and his hair was gelled so that it stuck almost straight up.  Len couldn’t see his face, so he took several steps closer to the other man.  

Allen gave no sign that he’d noticed Len’s presence.  Len rubbed his eyebrows.  He’d never spoken to Allen and didn’t want to interrupt him when he was busy, but he had other things to do.  He cleared his throat.  “Working hard or hardly working?”  

Allen froze - and then, faster than Len could believe, he was on his feet, glowering at him from beside the desk.  

Len stared at the CSI, momentarily stunned into silence.  His brain clicked into overdrive.  First, Allen was _young_ \- he looked fresh out of college, not the twenty-five that Len had read in his personnel file.  Second, he was gripping a pen in his fist so tightly that his knuckles were white.  Third, there were lines in the kid’s face that didn’t belong - tired, angry shadows - but his eyes were fierce and bright.  

Len decided that the best word to describe Allen was _cornered,_ and couldn’t help but find it a bit alarming.  

Allen’s breath misted out from between pursed lips, and with a jolt Len realized that the temperature in the room had dropped substantially.  He shook himself, getting his powers back under control.  No way was he going to get spooked by an assistant CSI with a pen.  “You gonna stab me, kid?”  

Allen blinked, then looked down at his clenched fist.  “Oh,” he said, his voice slightly shaky.  He tossed the pen back onto the desk, a bit of the wariness easing out of his posture.  “No, I - you just - I don’t like being startled.”  

Len’s lips twitched; wasn’t that an understatement.  “Next time I’ll be more careful.”  

“Yeah,” Allen said, rubbing the back of his neck.  A slight flush stood out on his cheeks.  “Well, judging by the sudden dip in the thermostat, you must be Detective Snart.  Nice to meet you.”  

So the kid already knew about his powers.  And he knew his name.  “Likewise,” he said, giving the CSI a hard look.  “You seem to have done your research.  Am I that famous?”

Something flashed across Allen’s eyes before he settled his face back into a neutral expression.  “Depends on who you ask - Detective.  My best friend told me she interviewed you - do you remember Iris West?”  

Iris West was hard to forget, since she was Joe West’s daughter and had until recently been dating her father’s partner in secret.  Len couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Allen had learned from that interview, given how reluctant Len had been to sit down for it in the first place.  “I do know her,” he said.  A good, safe answer.  “She’s something else.”  

Allen’s eyes brightened, and Len took note - apparently complimenting Iris had been the right move.  “Yeah, you can say that again.  And your sister - I haven’t gotten to talk to her much, I’ve been busy settling in, but she’s a legend.  She’s cut the SOEC backlog in half, and rape conviction rates have gone up eighteen percent since she took over the CSI division.”

Len felt himself relax a bit more at the mention of his sister.  He and Allen had something in common, it seemed.  “She’s glad to have you, kid,” he said.  “You’re taking some of the work off her back.  And don’t call me Detective.  You can call me Snart, like everyone else.”  

Allen’s mouth quirked to the side - it was almost a smile, and it made him look even younger.  “How about I call you Snart if you agree to call me Barry and not ‘kid’?”

“Sorry, _Barry_ ,” Len said, drawling over the nickname a little more than was strictly necessary.  “No bargaining with cops who bring you sandwiches.”  He held up the bag containing the ham sub.  

Barry’s eyes widened at the sight of the bag.  “You mean that’s for me?  Do you always give food to strangers?”

Len raised an eyebrow.  “Do you interrogate every person who brings you a sandwich?”

“Um, I don’t exactly get a lot of sandwich offers, so no.  Definitely not.  Far be it from me to question my luck, but why are you feeding me?” Barry said, eyeing Len skeptically.  “Two minutes ago I threatened to stab you with a pen.”  

Len sighed.  “Because I’m nice.  Do you not want the sandwich?”

“I never said that!”  Barry hastily crossed to Len and took the sandwich before retreating to lean against the desk.  He unwrapped the sub and took a bite; Len forced himself not to chuckle at the almost-comical look of bliss that spread across the kid’s face.  “Mmph, this is really good!  Thanks, Snart.”

Now that he was smiling, Len could see the resemblance to Dr. Allen in Barry’s brighter eyes. 

They settled back into small talk after that, Barry becoming more animated as he ate.  He didn’t mention the particle accelerator, or ask Len questions about his powers.   To Len’s surprise, he found himself disappointed when he had to excuse himself from the conversation and return to his office. 

Barry gave him a tiny wave as he exited the lab.  “It was nice to meet you!”

“Likewise, kid,” Len replied.    

He found himself smiling quietly as he descended the stairs.  He supposed he’d have to thank his sister for the sandwich idea after all. 

Len briefly debated mentioning the CSI’s hair-trigger to Lisa, but decided against it.  His sister didn’t need him to interfere, and Barry’s jumpiness was hardly out of the ordinary, given the kid’s family history. 

Besides, Lisa would be insufferable if she realized he’d actually enjoyed talking to the new CSI.  With some surprise, Len realized he’d already made up his mind to visit Barry's lab tomorrow if things didn’t get busy.  The kid was funny and smart behind that guardedness, and he didn’t seem put off by Len’s powers.  It had been nice to be treated like a regular officer again. 

For now, though, he’d play things cool – and he definitely wouldn’t mention anything about this afternoon to Lisa.  She’d find out in the end, and she’d make him pay for keeping quiet, but he’d rather not have his sister looking over his shoulder.    

If Len was actually going to follow up on his curiosity about Barry Allen, he was going to do it on his own terms.  And the less said about it the better.  


	3. Mind Over Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! This one is a bit longer than usual, I had a lot I wanted to fit in. There's some plot starting, though! I hope you enjoy it.

Once Snart left his lab, Barry collapsed bonelessly into his swivel chair.  That had been too close. 

He tried to return to his earlier rhythm, but in the end it was all Barry could do to make it through the rest of the day.  His hands shook as he sorted through his last few stacks of paperwork, replaying the entire conversation with Snart until he felt sick to his stomach. 

It was bad enough that he’d allowed someone so dangerous to get the jump on him.  He couldn’t believe he’d already become so complacent in the upstairs lab, a place where he’d already been hurt once before.  

And then when Detective Snart had snuck up behind him, he’d almost blown everything.  Barry had recognized the other metahuman’s voice - deep, clipped, but with a little bit of a lilt to it - from their encounter on the roof.  It had been all he could do to suppress his instinctive startle reaction, so much more pronounced after the lightning, and even that hadn’t been enough.  

Somehow things had worked out okay in the end, but it wasn’t because of Barry’s actions.  Snart hadn’t hated him, or given him grief – he’d actually seemed apologetic, and had even given Barry food.  If he hadn’t had the sandwich to distract him and the bag to fiddle with, things probably would have gone a lot worse. 

Barry rolled the ballpoint pen between his fingers and grimaced to himself.  _Shit, Iris might have been right._   He’d managed to have a decent conversation with Snart, but he’d been too on-edge around the metahuman detective to learn anything about him, aside from the fact that he loved his sister and had an affinity for bad puns.   But he wasn’t what Barry had been expecting.  Snart had been… _nice,_ actually.  And Barry had threatened the man with a pen, what had he been _thinking?_

Barry looked down at his hands and realized that he’d been clicking the pen top so fast that he’d broken it.  _Fuck._  

He needed to run.  The more he thought about it, the more he could actually feel his heart picking up at the memory of his near miss, the way that the room had started to ice over when Snart got startled.  He shut off his computer and stood, fumbling through his locker until he reached the duffel bag where he stored the Flash suit.  Running around the city wasn’t going to cut it today - he needed to burn off some serious steam, and for that he needed STAR Labs.  

It wasn’t all bad over there, Barry reflected as shouldered the bag and headed out the front door of the precinct.  Lots of needles and tests, but the people were nice.  He barely knew Caitlin and Cisco, but he liked them - they’d also taken care of his body while he was in a coma, so he supposed they were trustworthy enough.  And he hadn’t talked to them in a few days, so they’d actually be happy to see him.  Barry was also looking forward to talking with Dr. Wells again; he’d been in awe of the man for so long that talking to him one-on-one was almost as surreal as running at nearly supersonic speeds.  

Once he started running, it didn’t take him more than a minute or two to get to STAR Labs.  The minimal gate security at STAR Labs had always bothered Barry a little bit - as Caitlin had pointed out before, there was hardly any need for security at a nearly-abandoned facility - but it made getting into the building a breeze, especially when he was running.  He skidded to a stop in the Cortex, the air displacement of his arrival sending papers flying everywhere.  “Hey, guys!”  

“Barry!”  Cisco’s head appeared around the office door, his smile bright.  “You should have told us you were coming, Caitlin could have put down paperweights!”

“You think he’s kidding, but those paperweights are important.”  Caitlin mouth quirked in a tiny smile, the expression becoming a bit more genuine when Barry’s lips curved upward in response. 

Barry felt guilt gnaw uncomfortably at his stomach.  The situation at STAR Labs was one he’d been hoping to put off dealing with, but he needed more people in his corner.  The CCPD wasn’t a safe space – he had too many secrets there, too much to hide from too many people.  STAR Labs wasn’t perfect, but Barry couldn’t feasibly hide from _everyone._ He liked Caitlin and Cisco, he reminded himself, and besides, Iris would kick his ass if she found out he’d tried to push them away. 

Knowing them both, Barry was reasonably confident that he could make it work.  Caitlin and Cisco were both kind, and he trusted them – plus, he’d have to have been blind to miss the careful overtures of friendship they’d been making.  Caitlin seemed content with Barry’s distance and understood it for what it was – caution, not coldness – but Cisco was another story.  The engineer was able to insinuate himself into Barry’s space in the strangest of ways; he was responsible for the suit Barry wore, not to mention the calorie bars Barry ate when he couldn’t buy or steal enough food otherwise. 

What’s more, Cisco still seemed to be happy to see him even though some of the wonder of his super-speed had worn off.  Barry made a mental note to be nicer to him in particular, even if it meant becoming a bit more emotionally attached to the STAR Labs crew as a result.  Cisco wasn’t Iris, but Barry enjoyed the engineer’s enthusiasm – and his support would be invaluable if Barry decided to scale up his level of activity in Central City. 

He’d never been fond of biting off more than he could chew, emotionally speaking.  But he had super-speed now – surely he could manage to protect a couple more people. 

“So what’s up around the lab?” Barry ventured, setting the duffel bag on a nearby stool.   “I feel like I haven’t been around much.” 

“It’s been a few days, yeah,” Cisco said, stepping out of his office.  “Not that I’m complaining, since you’ve been running all over the city and we’ve been getting some amazing data off the suit.” 

“Yeah?”  Barry latched onto the subject gratefully.  “Have I been getting faster?” 

Cisco pursed his lips thoughtfully.  “Hard to say.  Your average cruising speed has definitely gone up, but you can’t really run full-throttle in city limits.  Too many glass windows.” 

“But your body seems to be adjusting to your new regimen,” Caitlin cut in.  “Blood oxygen levels, systolic pressure, respiratory rate – all good.  And Cisco’s energy bars seem to have taken care of the glucose problem.”

“Yeah, they’ve been a lifesaver,” Barry said, smiling at the engineer.  “Probably literally,” he added, and gave himself a mental pat on the back when Cisco beamed.  “I’m actually here for the treadmill, if that’s alright with you guys,” he explained.  “I want to go for top speed - without damaging Central’s storefronts.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” said Cisco, rubbing his hands together.  “I’ll get the program running.” 

“And I’ll get Doctor Wells,” Caitlin added.  “He’s been very interested in the feedback from your suit, but I’m sure he’d prefer to see you running in person.”

As Caitlin disappeared through the Cortex door, Cisco set to work booting up the various programs that fed information from Barry’s sensors into the system.  “So… Anything new going on in the life of the Flash?” he asked casually. 

He was clearly fishing; Barry took a deep breath, remembering his resolve to be more open.  “Well, I got a job.” 

“What?  No way, that’s awesome,” Cisco said, looking up from the monitor.  “So who’s the lucky boss?  Do they know anything about… anything?” 

Barry grimaced.  “I hope not, seeing as I work for the CCPD.”  Cisco’s eyebrows rose, and Barry realized that he hadn’t really told the engineer anything about his life before the particle accelerator blew.  Another thing he’d have to remedy, if they were actually going to be friends.  “Before the coma, I worked as a CSI in Starling City,” he explained.  “It was… Let’s say it was a good place to get experience, and leave it at that.” 

“Huh, with that other vigilante operating out in Starling I bet there were plenty of interesting crime scenes,” Cisco said thoughtfully, handing Barry a pad of electrodes before turning his back. 

“Thanks,” Barry said, smiling a bit at hearing Oliver referred to as _that other vigilante._ After sneaking a peek to make sure Cisco’s back was still turned, he removed his shirt and attached the electrodes to his chest at super-speed.  He would have preferred to just use the Flash suit, but it probably needed some patching up after his fight with Snart.  He’d have to ask Cisco about taking a look at it, but in the meantime, plainclothes would have to do. 

“Yeah, the SCPD was an interesting place to work,” Barry continued, tugging his shirt back over his head.  “Central City is… quieter.  Except for the metahumans.  Out in Starling there were a few times that I really ended up in the thick of it.  Prepared me for doing this,” he said, gesturing around at the lab. 

Cisco’s jaw dropped.  “No way,” he said, grin slowly broadening.  “You were part of the Arrow’s team!  I _knew_ he had a team!” 

“Um.”  Well that had been more than Barry intended to reveal.  He really needed to work on his small talk.  “I was really more of a consultant,” Barry protested weakly.  “Their team set-up doesn’t work quite like this.  The Arrow’s cool, though.  A bit… ruthless, but we do have some things in common.” 

“Pssh.”  Cisco waved a hand.  “The Arrow is – _awesome_ – but he’s got a bow and arrow, and you’ve got superpowers.  Way cooler.  But you’ve gotta tell me – do you know who the Arrow is?” 

“I plead the fifth,” Barry grinned.  Cisco pouted, and Barry shook his head.  “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.  Fe – one of his teammates barely stopped him from putting an arrow in my back when he figured out I’d learned his identity.” 

“Yeah, well.  Maybe one day,” Cisco grumbled.  “Anyway, if you won’t tell me about the Arrow, you’ve gotta tell me.  What’s it like working with Captain Cold?” 

Barry blinked.  “I’m sorry – with _who?_ ”

“Captain Cold!” Cisco said.  “Leonard Snart?” he added when Barry continued staring at him.  “Metahuman with ice powers, had an accident involving liquid nitrogen the night the particle accelerator exploded, works for the CCPD?  Ring any bells?”

“I mean, yeah, I’ve met him,” Barry said.  “But he’s a detective, not a captain.” 

Cisco rolled his eyes.  “It’s alliteration!  You’ve got your thing with the speed, I name the metahumans.  That’s how this goes.” 

 “He isn’t even a criminal!  Besides, I’m the one who picked the fight with _him_ , remember?  You still need to patch up my suit from that, by the way.” 

“Excuse you – it’s _my_ suit.  Or at least our suit,” Cisco amended when Barry narrowed his eyes at him.  “Honestly, Barry, I still can’t believe you picked a fight with Leonard Snart.  And that _Iris_ told us about it before you did!  I thought Caitlin was going to have an aneurysm.” 

Barry stopped himself from scowling.  “It wasn’t a big deal – I was fine in a couple of hours.  Checking the suit over is really just a precaution.”

Cisco eyed him skeptically.  “Alright, if you say so.  But be more careful – Snart’s a tough one, even without your built-in weakness to the cold.  I’m guessing he was able to slow you down?” 

“By a lot, actually,” Barry admitted.  “How do you know so much about this guy anyway?” 

“He’s got a bit of a history.  Snart was one of the first metas to find his way into the public eye,” Cisco explained as he crossed over to the monitor and began booting up the treadmill.  “He developed powers a month after the accelerator blew – he’s been working with the police to catch metahuman criminals ever since.  The public had a field day,” he said, smiling.  “Dr. Wells had to make a _statement.”_   

Barry chuckled at the thought of his surly mentor in a wheelchair on some stage, surrounded by reporters.  “I bet he hated that.” 

“He looked like he’d been forced to eat socks,” Cisco said, grinning.  “I think I archived the footage somewhere if you ever need a laugh.” 

“Did you now,” said Harrison Wells from the doorway. 

Cisco jumped about a foot.  “Dr. Wells!” he yelped.  “How… how long have you been there?” 

“About three minutes,” the man replied, steering his wheelchair into the room as Caitlin followed behind.  “As eager as I am to see Mr. Allen’s abilities in action, it would have been remiss to interrupt such an _enlightening_ conversation.” 

“Treadmill’s ready, Barry,” Cisco said with a flustered glance at Dr. Wells and Caitlin.  “I’m just gonna… watch.  From the room.  Yeah.” 

Cisco vanished into the observation area, and Barry fought to suppress a grin as he stepped onto the treadmill. 

Even after nearly a month being the Flash, running still took Barry’s breath away.  There was nothing like the freedom of racing through Central City, being able to go anywhere in the blink of an eye, blurring past people and cars so quickly that they seemed to be frozen in space as he moved. 

The treadmill was a tamer option, much less interesting than streaking all over the city, but it had its compensations.  Instead of dodging obstacles, Barry could focus on speed – pushing his limits, feeling every cell in his body crackle, awake, _alive._

He’d have to ask Cisco if there was any way they could modify the treadmill to display his speed – they could see it on the monitors in the observation room, but he himself had no way of knowing exactly how fast he was going.  Because Barry was willing to bet he’d already pushed past his previous top speed, and he was still going.  For some reason, running faster felt _easier_ today – as if he was being picked up and carried. 

Nothing could touch him like this, when he was wrapped up in lightning.  Speed was safe, it felt like home.  It would be so easy, he reflected as he pushed himself faster still, to close his eyes and let his power sweep him away instead of carrying him, and never put him down.  To run and just… lose himself in it. 

Barry’s eyes snapped open, and he almost stumbled.  This was wrong.  He loved his speed, but the idea of running and _never stopping_ was suddenly a lot more alluring than he was comfortable with.  Feeling suddenly ill, he released his grip on the lightning and felt the world drop back into normal speed as he slowed.

“Everything alright, Mr. Allen?” said Dr. Wells as Barry stepped off the treadmill.  “You seemed to be running comfortably, but you chose to stop prematurely.” 

“Yeah, it was… I just felt kind of weird for a second.  How fast was I going?” Barry asked when he saw Cisco and Caitlin raise their eyebrows. 

“Almost seven hundred miles per hour,” Cisco said with a grin.  “New record, man.” 

Caitlin was looking at him shrewdly.  “Your system didn’t seem stressed.  Have you been drinking enough?  Dehydration is still an issue, you know.” 

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Barry protested.  “It was more… mental?” 

Dr. Wells’ eyes narrowed.  “Explain.” 

Why had he even brought this up?  Now Dr. Wells looked like he was trying to read his mind, and Caitlin and Cisco both looked _concerned._ “I felt like I was losing control,” he explained cautiously.  “Like, one minute I was fine, the next I hit this… _plateau,_ I guess.  Where it felt like it would be easier for me to keep running forever than to actually stop.  How – is that even possible?” he appealed. 

Dr. Wells frowned thoughtfully.  “We don’t know.  All of your readouts were consistent with your baseline, so what you felt was most likely mental – a side effect of your increased speed.  But if it is biological, monitoring input won’t tell us what we need to know.  We’ll need to run different tests.”

“Um,” Barry said.  “If it’s all the same, I’d rather not.  Do any tests today, I mean.  Running right away just doesn’t feel… I don’t want to push things.” 

“Another time, then.  But we will revisit this,” Dr. Wells said in a tone that brooked no argument. 

Barry suddenly felt the itch to get away – from Caitlin’s concern, from Wells’ piercing gray eyes – but a proper escape would involve running, something he wasn’t exactly eager to do at the moment.  He settled for the next best thing, calling Cisco aside to discuss suit repairs and equipment modifications and pretending not to notice when Dr. Wells and Caitlin vanished into another room to confer. 

Naturally, just as Barry was getting ready to leave for the night, there was an alarm. 

Cisco ran to the monitor.  “Bombing on Eighth and Pass,” he called to Barry with a grimace.  “Guess it’s a good thing we spent tonight patching up the suit.” 

“Guess so,” said Barry absently, blurring into the familiar red tripolymer and pulling the cowl over his head. 

“Comms on or off tonight?” Caitlin asked, and Barry stared.  “We’ll get it if you want to just… do your thing.” 

Barry swallowed.  “No, I – I think I’d like them on.  Just in case I need something.” 

“You’ve got it,” Cisco said, and the last thing Barry saw before flashing out of the Cortex was the engineer’s small smile.

* * *

The run to the bombing site was nerve-wracking and slower than Barry would have liked, but with the memory of his earlier moment of instability fresh in his mind, he wasn’t in the mood to push himself. 

He skidded to a stop in front of the glass-walled high rise and whistled at the sight of the plume of fire and acrid smoke billowing out of the hole in the side of the building.  “Oh boy.  This is gonna be a fun crime scene to go over tomorrow.” 

“Focus, Barry,” Dr. Wells said.  “Are there any police officers?”

Barry checked the street – it was still deserted, but he could hear the sound of sirens rapidly drawing closer.  “I got here first, but they’re coming.  I’m not sure I’ll be able to find the bomber before they show up,” he said, grimacing.  If only he’d gotten here faster, he could have triple-checked the lower floors and the areas surrounding the building.  “I could coordinate with the police, help them to flush the person out?”

“No, Barry – do _not_ engage with the police,” Dr. Wells said flatly.  “It is not worth them learning more about you.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “They already know plenty about me, since I picked a fight with a _metahuman cop!_ I’m not just going to let a bomber get away with running around Central City!” 

“No reason to give the CCPD more ammo, dude,” Cisco replied.  “With your track record, they might think _you’re_ the bomber.  And that would be bad,” he added. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Barry huffed.  At least Cisco’s objection was reasonable.  “But I won’t just let them get away with it.  You guys will help me track them down?” 

“Of course,” Cisco chuckled.  “Between STAR Labs and the CCPD, this nasty will have nowhere to hide.” 

Barry relaxed.  STAR Labs’ help would make catching a bomber infinitely easier – he’d be able to mop this up before they were able to go after any more targets. 

In the meantime, he could at least make his day job tomorrow a little easier.  He flashed around the building, doing a quick check of the exterior while making sure not to touch anything important, but wasn’t surprised when he turned up empty-handed. 

At least the bomber’s motive was easier to puzzle out.  Whatever they had been after, Barry doubted it was general mayhem – if they’d wanted that, they would have set the charge to blow during the day, when the building had been filled with workers. 

This had been a calculated attack, he decided as he checked the last of the exits and ran into an alley behind the building.  He could hear the sirens getting close – he didn’t dare search the building anymore, not if he was going to keep his presence here a secret. 

A panicked cry from above his head made him pause.  He looked up, and his blood ran cold. 

There was a man dangling from a hanging platform beneath the building’s blasted-out window.  He must have been cleaning the windows when the bomb went off.  First responders wouldn’t be able to get him down from there – but maybe Barry could, if he played his cards right. 

He put a hand to his radio.  “Guys, there’s a window-washer in trouble, hanging off a platform about fifty meters up – is it possible for me to run up the side of a building?” 

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.  “In theory, for sure,” Cisco said.  “But you’d have to go really fast.  You’ll be fighting gravity every time you take a step – and if you don’t have enough friction to maintain your forward speed, you’ll fall right off the wall.” 

“Okay, got it.  How fast?” One of the platform’s support cables snapped, and Barry gritted his teeth.  “Guys, hurry!” 

“About six hundred miles an hour,” said Dr. Wells cut in, “but you’ll need to maintain your velocity on the way down.” 

Barry tilted his head.  “Or what?”

“Splat,” said Caitlin, and Barry winced. 

He stared up at the window-washer’s platform, suspended high in the air.  Six hundred miles an hour was way higher than cruising speed.  Barry felt his heart rate pick up at the memory of the treadmill.  If he lost control of his speed, tripped or was overtaken that far off the ground –

Dr. Wells’ voice broke through the fog.  “Barry, I want you to listen to me.  You have run faster than this.  This is a mental block, not a physical one.” 

“That doesn’t make it any less real!”

“I need you to focus on the task at hand,” Wells continued, his voice smooth.  “Think about your motivation.  You know what you need to do.  You need to help this man.  You’re standing at point A, that man is at point B, and the glass in between you and that man is just the distance you need to cover.  You can do this, I believe in you.” 

Barry took a deep breath and stared up at the window-washer’s platform, dangling in space from a fragile thread of steel.  Dr. Wells was right.  No one could save this man but him – and watching a person die, right in front of him, for the sake of his own cautious self-preservation? 

He started running. 

His first few steps were sloppy, velocity fluctuating with each step as he struggled to gain traction on the smooth glass.  But as his stride leveled out and he began to pick up speed, he felt it again – the sensation of being caught and pushed forward, faster than he’d intended to go. 

Barry fought down the flutter of anxiety in his stomach and focused instead on the rapidly approaching figure of the window-washer.  The platform was barely supported, the steel stretched far beyond its elastic limit.  As Barry’s arms closed around the window-washer’s torso, the tug broke the last intact threads of cable and sent the entire platform plummeting down behind them. 

A quick glance over his shoulder told Barry there was no sense in trying to outrun several hundred pounds of metal in free-fall.  He shifted his weight sideways and ran down the building at a diagonal, allowing plenty of room for the falling structure, but he hit the ground and was away from the building before it impacted. 

Barry skidded to a stop, breathing heavily as the crackling buzz of adrenaline began to wear off.  He could hear Cisco cheering in his earpiece, and didn’t bother trying to suppress a smile. 

“Well done, Barry,” said Dr. Wells, and Barry suspected that the other man was smiling too. 

He looked down at the window-washer in his arms, who was staring at him with wide eyes.  “Let’s get you to some help.” 

Finding the police took seconds.  The CCPD had set up a perimeter around the building; there were at least four squad cars, plus a fire truck and – perfect, an ambulance.  Barry deposited the window-washer on a gurney, taking care not to jostle his head and neck.  “There – you’re safe now.” 

The man looked back up at him, and for a brief second their eyes met.  “Thank you,” he croaked. 

Barry’s heart gave a funny squeeze, and he nodded before dashing back toward the alley. 

As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided headfirst into Iris.  “Hey!” she said with a grin. 

Barry stared at her.  Where had she even come from?  “Iris, what are you doing here?  This building is on _fire._ ”

“I’m behind the perimeter, it’s fine!”  Iris rolled her eyes fondly, oblivious to the fact that her presence at a bombing site was giving Barry heart palpitations.  “I wanted to see you do your thing – in person this time, not just some secondhand version that you give me after the fact.”    

Barry fidgeted but cracked a small smile.  Sure, he wasn’t happy that Iris was here – but she really hadn’t been in any immediate danger, and he had to admit, it was kind of flattering.  “See anything fun?” 

“Oh my god _yes!”_ Iris said, beaming.  “You ran up a _building!_ You’ve got to tell me everything.  What was it like?  How fast were you going?” 

“Later,” Barry said, his smile widening at her enthusiasm.  “Right now I’ve gotta get back to STAR Labs – and _you_ need to get out of here, before one of these cops spots you hanging around an active crime scene.” 

“Fine,” Iris sighed with a fake pout.  “But I want to talk about this more later.  Give me a lift back to Jitters?” 

“Hope you don’t care about those clothes,” Barry said, scooping her up in his arms with a grin.  “Sometimes people’s shirts catch on fire when I carry them.” 

Iris’ eyes widened, but Barry dashed off in the direction of the coffee shop before she could say another word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next chapter should be out within a week, I've already got some parts started. 
> 
> I'd love to get your continued feedback, so any comments will be greatly appreciated. And if you want to come yell with me on Tumblr about The Flash or BAON, my url there is cardinalstar as well. :)


	4. Jurisdiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This one took longer than I expected, I had a lot of things I wanted to fit in. At least it's a long update to make up for the slower turnaround! 
> 
> Again, huge thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments. When I found myself stuck on a plot point or a rough line of dialogue, reading what you all had to say helped me get my ass in gear again.

Barry burst through the precinct’s double doors just shy of super-speed.  Damn, ten minutes late and it was only his second day.  He’d known they’d want him in early today to go over the bombing, but even speeding through his morning routine hadn’t been enough to make up for sleeping through his alarm this time.

He dashed around the corner of the stairs – and almost collided headfirst with his boss. 

“Ah!” he yelped, backpedaling just in time to avoid bowling her over.   “I am _so_ sorry, Lisa, oh my god, I had no idea you were there, I’m sorry I’m late and I just called you by your first name too, holy shit-”

His boss’ lips slowly curved upwards.  “Oh wow.  You’re adorable.  Go get your kit, we’ve got a scene to case.  And Lisa’s fine,” she added.    

Barry stared at her.  “Wait, you’re coming too?”  Lisa raised her eyebrows, and he blushed.  “Right!” he blurted.  “I’ll just.  I’ll be right back!” 

He ran up the stairs to his lab and blurred into super-speed, throwing supplies into his bag before jogging back down the stairs to where Lisa was waiting.  “Okay, I’m ready.” 

“Good.  We can take my bike,” Lisa said, starting for the door; Barry scrambled to fall in step behind her.  “I’ve got an extra helmet.” 

“Why are you coming with me?” Barry blurted out.  “Not that I’m trying to keep sticking my foot in my mouth, but I got the impression that the CCPD wanted someone who could do this stuff already.” 

Lisa’s smile showed teeth.  “I’m not _doubting_ you, Barry.  But when I’ve got coworkers on the ground collecting evidence, I like to know what they see.  Get a feel for their style.  This isn’t a test – but please, do feel free to show off.” 

She pulled the door open and waved Barry through, and he rolled his eyes while suppressing the urge to smile.   

His good mood evaporated when he caught sight of Lisa’s motorcycle, parked conspicuously among the police cars.  “Is this department-issue?” 

“Technically, no,” Lisa replied.  “But I have good insurance.” 

She removed a second helmet from one of the gearboxes hung on either side of the motorcycle and handed it to him.  “Try this on.  It’s technically one of Lenny’s old ones, but you two probably had similar head sizes even if you are a string bean.” 

Barry numbly slid the helmet over his head, unsure which aspect of this plan concerned him more – that Lisa had apparently _planned_ this or that she called her meta-cop brother _Lenny._

“Where am I going to sit?” he asked as Lisa made the last few adjustments to the chinstrap.  “I don’t see a sidecar.”  He’d look more than a little ridiculous scrunched up in one, but the only other option was-

“You can ride behind me,” Lisa said cheerfully, and Barry’s brain ground to a halt.  “No way am I letting you steer, you don’t have a license.  And I don’t bite,” she said, climbing on the bike and looking back at him expectantly. 

“No, I just.  I don’t know you,” Barry hedged, trying to figure out how to explain his hesitation without coming across as rude.  “I really don’t do this kind of thing, so I’m… not sure.” 

Lisa’s eyes softened behind her helmet.  “Hey.  Barry, we can get there a different way if this makes you uncomfortable,” she said, the teasing cadence gone from her voice.  “I can get us a car.” 

She looked sincere, and without really meaning to, Barry found himself trusting her.  “No, it’s – it’s okay,” Barry said.  “Really,” he continued when she eyed him skeptically.  Because she’d heard him when he expressed his discomfort, and the bombing site wasn’t that far away from the station, all things considered.  Besides, if there was any sort of accident, he could speed his way off a moving bike way easier than he could jump out of a car. 

“Alright,” Lisa said, her smile returning.  “But hold on – this really is the fastest way to travel.” 

Barry seated himself gingerly behind her, pinching his lips together tightly in an effort to hold in his laughter.  _Oh, if she only knew._

* * *

When they reached the building, there were several officers already standing outside.  One of them gave Lisa a nod.  “Elevator’s out, I’m afraid,” he said apologetically.  “Scene’s on the fourteenth floor.  Bit of a hike.” 

Lisa sighed.  “Figures.  Well, Barry, onwards and upwards.”

Barry shouldered the kit, then shot her a puzzled look.  “Did you just quote C.S. Lewis?”

“I liked Narnia,” Lisa replied primly before heading toward the door. 

Before getting his powers, Barry had never been a huge fan of stairs.  Since getting super-speed, he’d since changed his tune – he was faster than most elevators, and he never had to wait. 

Unless, of course, he was walking with an audience.  Then he’d take an elevator any day. 

“What floor is this?” Barry finally said, making a show of huffing out a few sharp breaths.  Even if he could have run up several dozen more flights without breaking a sweat, he figured he should at least _pretend_ to be winded. 

“Twelve,” Lisa replied.  “It does feel like fourteen, though.  High ceiling clearance.”  She looked a bit flushed, but not otherwise phased by the climb.  _Badass,_ the analytical part of Barry’s brain supplied helpfully. 

The crime scene was bustling with activity.  Several officers were milling about in the hallway adjacent to the blasted window, which was hardly ideal, but at least they weren’t trampling all over the crime scene itself.  One of the cops was talking to a fidgety man in a gray uniform – probably the security guard from last night, if Barry had to make a guess. 

Lisa eyed the group thoughtfully.  “I’m going to go find out if there’s any security footage from before the bombing.  Start checking things over and let me know what you find.” 

Barry let out a relieved breath; apparently Lisa wasn’t going to watch him like a hawk the entire time.    That would make his life easier.  He set down his kit and pulled on some gloves before setting off in search of the bomb.  If he could find some remnants of the explosive device, maybe he’d be able to learn a little more about the bomber – and hopefully find some clues as to what they were after. 

But as his first sweep, and then his second, turned up nothing, his confidence gradually gave way to confusion.  There wasn’t any sort of clue to suggest that a bomb had been planted – if not for his own visit to the site, Barry would almost have suspected that the intercepted police scans had been wrong.  But the fire and concussive force had to have been produced by something, even if whoever had pulled the job had managed to disappear without a trace. 

Barry was examining the blasted fragments of window when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.  He looked up from his work, and his stomach lurched.  Lisa was approaching him – with Joe and Eddie in close pursuit. 

“Bad news – no security tapes,” Lisa said without preamble.  “The bomber was smart enough to cut the feed before coming up here.” 

“Security guard did manage to get a look at her, though,” Joe said quietly.  “Young woman, with red hair, wearing a black leather jacket.  Any luck, Barry?” he said with a small smile.

Barry wasn’t eager to have Joe _and_ Lisa breathing down his neck while he worked, but he wasn’t in such a bad mood that he couldn’t see Joe’s smile for what it was – a peace offering.  “None so far, if you can believe it,” he replied, keeping his tone light, and noticed Joe’s shoulders relax almost imperceptibly.  “I’ll have to take some of these glass fragments back to the lab to test for residue, but I haven’t found any trace of an oxidizing agent, much less an actual bomb.  Whoever this bomber was, she was able to cover her tracks.” 

“But she didn’t kill the security guard, which means she wasn’t just here to start trouble,” Eddie said with a frown. 

Lisa nodded approvingly.  “The fourteenth floor is too high for a random attack,” she said, echoing Barry’s thoughts from the night before.  “Whatever she wanted, she came here for a particular reason.  West, who rents the office space on this floor?” 

Joe’s eyebrows rose.  “Don’t know.  But the security guard might.” 

“Can you ask him?” Barry interjected.  Joe looked at him in surprise, and he felt an embarrassed flush creep up the back of his neck.  “It would help.” 

“Sure, Barr,” Joe replied cautiously before turning away. 

Barry noticed Lisa studying him from the corner of his eye, but studiously refused to acknowledge her as he turned over that fragment of a conversation, Iris’ nickname for him spoken in Joe’s voice.  Maybe Iris had been right – maybe Joe had missed him. 

He briefly thought about going after the detective, but they were at a crime scene.  He had work to do.  “We need to find out what the bomber was looking for,” he said, looking back up at his boss. 

“I might be able to help with that,” Eddie offered.  “One of these doors looks like it was blasted open with some kind of small charge.  Seems like a safe bet that our bomber needed to get to that room.” 

Barry nodded.  Finally, they were getting somewhere. 

The blasted doorknob was as atypical as the larger explosion site by the window – no bomb residue, no leftover fragments.  “This is bizarre,” Barry breathed, touching the charred blast radius with one gloved finger.  He peeked into the room and nearly groaned when he saw what it contained – row upon row of filing cabinets.  “Um.  Hey Lisa, can you go over this blast site once or twice while I start on the room?  I’m not finding anything telling, but I might have missed something.” 

He sighed in relief when Lisa took the kit from him without any further questions.  Stairs were one thing, but he was not about to search a room of filing cabinets at regular speed just because he had an audience. 

Barry started at the door and worked his way inward, methodically checking each drawer as he went.  Fanning through the folders at super-speed was a bit dizzying, but at least he didn’t have to _read_ everything he was looking at.  Several times he sliced his finger open on a page and had to bite back a curse.  At least the cuts would heal before he got back to the station. 

 _There –_ finally, after several minutes of nerve-wracking searching, his hands came to rest on a green tab that had been emptied of his contents.  He pulled the folder out of the drawer and felt a sinking sensation when he saw the embossed gold eagle stamped onto the top right corner next to the ID number.  Military information.  Fantastic. 

He took several quick pictures of the folder and sent them to Cisco – maybe STAR Labs would be able to get him some answers by the time he got back to the station.  The door creaked open, and Barry hastily deleted the photographs as Lisa, Joe, and Eddie filed into the room. 

“That was fast,” Lisa said, her eyebrows rising as she caught sight of the file in Barry’s hand. 

“Nah, just lucky – the bomber left the drawer open,” Barry lied.  “Does this mean anything to you?” he said, showing the seal to Joe and Eddie. 

Joe took the folder carefully.  “Definitely looks like a government seal.  And the security guard did say there was sensitive information on this floor.  Not national security risks, but sensitive.” 

Eddie worried his bottom lip.  “This isn’t adding up.  Was there any other suspicious activity in the area around the time of the bombing?” 

Joe nodded.  “You might be onto something.  Wasn’t there a civilian tip about a metahuman matching the description Snart gave you?”

“Sort of,” Lisa said, frowning.  “It was an anonymous blog post.  But apparently he got here after the bombing had already happened, and he saved a man’s life.  There might be a connection, but I don’t think the Flash is directly involved.” 

Barry nodded, relieved that Lisa appeared to have dismissed the idea – then his breath caught in his chest as he realized what he’d just heard. 

Okay, so a civilian had seen him at the crime scene.  Not the end of the world.  Even the blog post wasn’t that awful on its own.  But the CCPD – his own _boss –_ keeping ears that low to the ground for information about him?  Bad.  And worse, Lisa had called him _the Flash._ Nobody used that name, except for Iris, Oliver, and his team at STAR Labs.  How had Lisa known? 

He felt time start to dilate around him as his heart rate picked up, and forced himself to take several deep breaths.  He couldn’t panic now.  He needed to lay low, and look for answers later. 

“You okay, Barry?” Eddie said, his tone concerned. 

Barry mentally shook himself.  “Yeah – fine.  But if the Flash isn’t involved-” fuck, referring to himself in the third person was weird “-could another metahuman have been, if we’re checking out that angle?  Because some of the stuff about the bomb sites seemed a bit off.” 

Lisa’s eyes narrowed.  “The CCPD doesn’t have any files matching a metahuman like this, but you’re right.  I’ll make sure my brother looks into it.” 

Joe and Eddie left not long after that, and when they were alone, Lisa refocused her attention on Barry.  “I’m glad you said something about potential metahuman involvement,” she said quietly as they passed the other officers and started for the stairwell.  “It’s always best to avoid jumping to conclusions, but I was a bit worried that you wouldn’t think about it, coming from Starling.  I’m glad I was wrong,” she added cheerfully. 

Barry’s lips twitched.  “What can I say?  I woke up from a coma and people had developed superpowers while I was out.  It pays to look at every angle when your life has turned into a real-life version of The Walking Dead.” 

Lisa laughed.  “You make a good point,” she said, flashing him an actual smile.  “No wonder my brother likes you.” 

Barry’s perspective on reality came to a screeching halt, and he tripped down several steps.  “I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

“He never said anything to me,” Lisa said, her smile widening.  “But that’s just it – he _didn’t_ _say anything._ If he hadn’t enjoyed talking to you, he’d have made damn sure to complain to me seeing as I made him go up there in the first place.” 

Barry stared.  Lisa had made her brother come talk to him?  At least that explained why Snart had shown up with food.  “But I acted like a – ” _paranoid nutjob?  Stab-happy, overcaffeinated lunatic? –_ “complete moron,” he finished lamely. 

Lisa chuckled.  “He wouldn’t care,” she said, her smile turning fond.  “He doesn’t act like it, but Lenny can be a huge dork.” 

Barry opened his mouth to protest further, but his phone vibrated in his pocket, making him jump.  He pulled it out and entered his passcode. 

Thank god, Cisco had come through.  _VA file number,_ the message read.  _Come by STAR after work.  Will let you know if I find more._

“You’re smiling,” Lisa noted.  “Girlfriend?” 

“Wha – no, nope, no girlfriend,” Barry stammered.  “Just my friend Cisco.” 

“Ooh, is he the cute nerd from Monday?  Tell him I said hi,” Lisa said, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Barry’s jaw dropped – Cisco had been at the station for literally five minutes, and _when on earth had Lisa seen him?_ “I’ll do that, yeah.” 

Lisa’s attention was thankfully diverted by her cell phone, which she fished out of her pocket and answered on the last ring.  “Hey, Lenny.  Yeah, we just finished.  What’s up?” 

Barry listened closely, and could barely make out Snart’s voice on the other end of the line.  Whatever he was saying, it couldn’t be good; within seconds, Lisa’s playful smile had drained away and was replaced by a much graver expression.  “Okay, I’ll let Barry know.  Yeah, he’s with me.  Thanks for the heads-up – be careful.” 

She hung up the phone and turned to Barry.  “Apparently a bunch of military personnel showed up to talk to Captain Singh,” she sighed. 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Military - do you think they’re looking for info on the bombing?”

“Probably,” Lisa replied, slipping her phone back into her pocket.  “And if your hunch is right, I don’t like the sound of that.  I’m a little leery of anything that puts _military_ and _metahumans_ together in the same sentence.” 

Barry grimaced.  “Not the best.  What should we do about it?” 

“We can’t do anything, legally,” Lisa said, frowning.  “I’m sure they’ll want all the evidence we collected today.  When we get out of the elevator at the precinct, I’ll distract them – you get the stuff up to your lab, and try to take down some quick notes.  We’ll have to hand the actual evidence over, but at least that way we won’t be running blind.” 

“You’d investigate on your own?  Even if you didn’t have jurisdiction?”  This sounded almost too good to be true. 

“If there are metahumans involved, then my brother will be too.  You bet your ass I’m investigating,” Lisa growled. 

Her protectiveness filled Barry with unexpected warmth, and he decided that yes, he liked Lisa.  Good-humored, smart, a caring sister?  Triple check.  Plus she was demonstrably willing to bend the rules when it suited her, which was more than Barry had dared to hope for. 

He could work with this, he thought as he ran down the last few steps and pulled the door open, waving Lisa through and giving her a smug smile when she rolled her eyes.  He and Lisa were going to get along _just fine._

* * *

When the elevator doors opened, Barry was suddenly very glad that Snart had given them a warning. 

The room was awash in camouflage – there were at least a dozen armed soldiers on the ground floor, mostly clustered near the door to Captain Singh’s office.  The few police officers around seemed uncomfortable, and there was a tense atmosphere to the room that set Barry’s teeth on edge. 

He’d never seen so many big guns in one place.  Definitely an intimidation tactic, and an unnecessary one at that, given that they were in a police station.  Whoever was in charge of this takeover, Barry was sure that they were an asshole. 

Lisa gave him a meaningful nod before stepping out of the elevator and walking straight toward the clump of men near Singh’s office door.  “Wow, this is exciting!” Barry heard her call.  “I don’t think we’ve ever warranted a military presence in Central before.  Are you all from out of town?” 

Barry didn’t stick around long enough to find out where the soldiers were from.  He made a stealthy break for it, speed-walking along the back wall and up the stairs while trying desperately not to look guilty. 

Once he was hidden in the relative safety of his lab, he unpacked his kit at super-speed and placed a fragment of the window glass into a sterile container before settling in to take notes.  There was a large box of files sitting on his desk that Barry didn’t remember seeing before; a quick glance was enough to confirm that the papers inside were related to the bombing investigation.  He read through them in several seconds and began scribbling down the most important details before they slipped out of his short-term memory. 

Midway through a note about the blasted doorknob, Barry snapped the pencil lead, tearing a hole in the paper at the same time.  He swore and tossed the broken pencil aside, wishing that he hadn’t broken his pen the day before.  They held up better to his speed-writing, even if he did have a tendency to smear the ink. 

 _Slow down,_ he chanted to himself, gritting his teeth as he set about re-copying the torn page.  _You’re fine, you’ve got this._

A quiet knock at the door jolted Barry out of his concentration.  He whipped around and saw Detective Snart was standing in the doorway.  “I thought you could use some help with those files,” he said smoothly.  “That box was heavy.” 

“Did you bring all the case files up here before you called Lisa?” Barry asked, surprised. 

“Thought they might come in handy,” Snart said, tilting his head in the direction of the container on Barry’s desk.  “You got a sample saved?” 

“Yeah – just in case,” Barry stammered.  “Field equipment didn’t turn up much, so it’s kind of a long shot, but it can’t hurt.  I can put it through the mass spectrometer once people go home for the night.” 

“Good.”  Snart reached for the box, and for a brief second Barry panicked – he’d only been in the station for a few minutes, how was he going to explain four pages of notes? – but luckily the other man seemed more preoccupied with checking the files than reading Barry’s chicken-scratch.  “Grab the kit?” 

The phrasing – like a question, not an order – threw Barry for a second until he realized that Snart was actually _deferring_ to him in the lab.  He remembered what Lisa had said, about her brother enjoying his company more than he’d let on, and found himself fighting to hold in a smile. 

He could do this.  If he could keep up with Lisa, surely Snart couldn’t be too much worse. 

“So you think there’s a metahuman involved in the bombing?” Barry asked tentatively as they walked down the stairs. 

Snart glanced at him.  “Still not sure, kid.  But military attention isn’t what we need here.  Metahumans are a whole new world to them.” 

Barry shuddered as his thoughts turned dark – human weapons, labs, _experiments_.  “Would they actually…” he trailed off, making a snatching motion with his hands. 

“Not to me,” Snart said, a wry smile crossing his face briefly before vanishing.  “Too high-profile.  Others, possibly.”

“Like the speedster from the crime scene last night?” Barry ventured.  “Lisa mentioned that there was another metahuman there.”  

“The Flash?” Len said thoughtfully, and Barry fought down another shiver at the sound of his codename on the other metahuman’s lips.  “If they could catch him, yes.  They’d be interested.” 

 _How had the Snarts found out about him?_ The name of his alternate identity was far from the worst thing they could have dug up, but Barry didn’t want Snart knowing _anything_ about him if he could help it. 

Preoccupied, he weaved his way through the soldiers, following Snart a little more closely than he would have otherwise.  He didn’t like the idea of the military’s _interest_ in metahumans.  And if Lisa was able to get his name, what else could the government find out about the Flash? 

Singh’s office door opened and the captain stepped out, followed by a grim-faced man with a lapel decorated in medals.  His eyes locked on Snart instantly.  “Well.  If it isn’t Detective Leonard Snart,” he said. 

“It is,” Snart replied coolly.  “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” 

“The pleasure’s mine,” the man said, taking a step closer.  “General Wade Eiling.  I’ve heard about what you’ve done for this city, Leonard.  If you’re ever interested in using your… _talents_ to serve your country instead of your municipal department, I hope you’ll let me know.” 

“We couldn’t do what we do without him,” said Joe, stepping into Eiling’s line of sight.  “Barry, have you brought down everything _relevant_ from your lab?” 

His brown eyes bored into Barry’s, the second unspoken message of the day.  “Yeah.  This is everything,” he said with a small nod. 

A man stepped forward and took the box from Snart’s arms before tugging the field kit’s strap off of Barry’s shoulder.  “I hope you’ll keep us informed on what you find,” Joe said as he watched the soldiers pack Barry’s evidence away. 

“I doubt that will be necessary.”  Eiling looked like a cat with the cream, his smile smug and self-assured, and Barry saw Lisa’s forehead crinkle in worry at the back of the room.  His stomach curled with distaste – _asshole_ had been an accurate, if generous, assessment. 

Without really thinking, he snatched the green file folder from the evidence box as the soldier paraded by.  STAR Labs needed it, and as far as he was concerned, the military’s investigation could go to hell. 

Snart glanced back and caught sight of the file tucked discreetly under Barry’s arm.  His eyebrow raised almost infinitesimally, but there was a gleam in his eyes that looked distinctly like approval. 

* * *

“Thanks Cisco, I’ll let you know when I’m headed over.  Bye.” 

Barry ended the call and returned his phone to his pocket as he pushed his way into Jitters.  He’d managed to time his departure from the station with the end of Iris’ usual Tuesday shift, but he couldn’t stay long – STAR Labs would be expecting him, and the folder, so that they could start tracking down the bomber.  Once Barry had informed Cisco about the possibility that they were after a metahuman, the engineer had become nearly obsessed with finding her. 

But first things first – he needed to warn Iris.  If the police were digging that hard for information on the Flash, Iris would be in danger any time she was seen with his costumed alter-ego. 

“Hey, Barry!” Iris said, but her smile froze when she saw his expression.  “What’s wrong?” 

Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  “We’ve got a problem.” 

“Okay,” Iris said slowly, her eyes worried.  “Do you want me to grab you a coffee while you tell me about it?” 

Barry shook his head.  “I can’t stay – they need me at STAR.  But I wanted to warn you – it’s not good.”  He sank into his favorite corner seat, and Iris settled in across from him.  “The police know who I am.” 

Iris’ eyes widened.  “You mean – they found out that _Barry Allen is -”_

“No, not like that!” Barry replied hastily.  He swallowed at the thought – because holy shit, as bad as this was, having his _secret_ identity revealed to the CCPD would be infinitely worse.  “They know _about_ me.  Lisa – my boss – told me that someone saw _the Flash_ at the bombing site.  She knew that I’m calling myself the Flash!” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.  “If the CCPD knows that, what else do they know about me?” 

“It might not be as bad as you think,” Iris said, pinching her lips together. 

How could she be so casual about this?  “No, this is terrible,” Barry hissed.  “These people are _looking for me –_ any information is too much!  You could be in danger if we’re seen together!”  Iris’ expression looked pained, her shoulders curving slightly forward, and Barry paused.  “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Iris closed her eyes.  “I screwed up.” 

“What do you - ”  Barry froze, a chill running down his spine as he thought back to last night and what had happened.  “Iris.  You didn’t.” 

“I didn’t think anyone would see it!”  Iris took a deep breath and Barry waited, trying to fight off the sudden tightness in his chest.  “We’re doing a social media unit in my journalism class – documenting current events, networking, that kind of stuff.  So I started a blog.” 

Barry blinked.  “So you just – decided to write about me?”

“Not just you – metahumans, in general.  Because they _are_ news.”  Iris squared her shoulders.  “I posted the interview I did with Detective Snart – without any names attached, don’t look at me like that – and it got some attention.  So I started looking for more.  Stories about metahumans doing good, helping the community.  I posted something about you saving that man last night… and his family found it.  It went viral,” she confessed, clearly caught between regret and pride.  “People on the internet are saying good things, Barry!  But I should have told you about it sooner,” she sighed, laying her hand on the table in front of him.  “I didn’t realize the post would get around to the CCPD so quickly.  Are you mad at me?” 

Barry stared at her hand in front of him and made a brief, aborted move to touch it before stopping himself and looking back up at her face.  “I – Iris, I’m not mad, but – you didn’t even _ask_ me,” he sighed.  “Please tell me you didn’t put your name on it, at least.” 

Iris snorted.  “Of course not, Barr, I’m not stupid.” 

“Okay.  Good,” Barry huffed.  “I mean, obviously I wish I’d known about it first so that I would have been prepared when Lisa scared the shit out of me at work today.  But I’m not angry.  Just don’t do it again.” 

Iris looked confused.  “But Barry, this is a _good thing._ Obviously I went about things all wrong this time, but getting your name out there will help!” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Iris, have you been listening?  I _like_ anonymity.  It protects me, it protects you and the people at STAR Labs!” 

“If people care about who you are and what you’re doing, _that_ will protect you too!”  Iris removed her hand from the table.  “Do you have any idea what it’s _like,_ knowing you’re out there and I can’t do anything to keep you safe?  I can’t look out for you when you’re running around the city at hundreds of miles an hour, but I can at least do this.”

“So you’ll do what – say nice things about me?  Hide me behind a PR smokescreen?”  Barry grinned mirthlessly.  “Or are you gonna tell the truth?  Because part-time thief, part-time vigilante doesn’t sound good no matter how you spin it.” 

Iris narrowed her eyes.  “Maybe if you’d change up your habits, I’d have better stories to tell.” 

“That is not the point of this conversation,” Barry growled. 

“Then maybe it should be.  I’m just – surprised, Barr,” Iris sighed.  “Usually you’re always looking for a different angle, another way to solve a problem.  I’m not saying this is a perfect plan, but it could be a really good thing!  Especially with you on board.”  She smiled, the bright one that she only used when she really meant what she was saying in earnest. 

Barry hardly ever went against that smile.  This was going to have to be one of those times.    

“No.  Iris, I’m not okay with this,” he said firmly.  “I don’t want you out there.  You can’t put yourself in harm’s way for my sake.” 

“Last time I checked, you weren’t the one who tried to make my decisions for me,” Iris huffed, standing up from the table and taking her bag.  “That’s always been my dad’s job.” 

Barry’s heart clenched painfully.  “Iris, that’s not fair.” 

She grimaced, her eyebrows drawing together for a brief second.  “Yeah, it wasn’t.  Look, I’ve gotta go – I’m meeting Eddie for a date and I need to get changed.”

“I can take you back to your apartment?” Barry offered reflexively. 

“I’ve got it this time,” Iris said, putting her coat on.  “Besides, don’t you have somewhere to be?  STAR Labs?” she added when Barry looked at her in confusion. 

“Right!  Shit, I forgot.”  Barry stumbled to his feet, pushing his chair in as he went.  “But I’m serious – no more blogging.” 

Iris stared at him, her eyebrows drawn together in disapproval for a split second that, to Barry, felt far longer.  “We’ll talk about it.” 

Barry watched her leave, then checked his watch.  Late, of course. 

Ironic that he was headed to STAR Labs, when the last thing he felt like doing right now was running.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 will hopefully be up within the week. I'd love to know what you thought of the new plot/character developments, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	5. Educated Guesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's April now, AKA time for real-life responsibilities to clobber me over the head with a shovel. I'll continue to update throughout the month, but it'll be less often until my workload improves. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left comments on Chapter 4! Your reviews were a treat and continued to spur me through this update. Chapter 5 is another long one and bits of it were tricky, so that feedback? It helped a lot. 
> 
> Enough of my chatter though - I hope you like the new chapter!

When Barry zipped into the Cortex, the papers on Caitlin’s desk gave a brief flutter before settling – apparently she hadn’t been kidding about the paperweights.  In spite of his gloomy mood, it was enough to make him crack a smile. 

“Barry, hey!” Cisco called from behind the console.  “Caitlin and I managed to dig up more on our bomber while you were at work, but we wanted to wait for you.” 

Cisco and Caitlin were smiling, and Barry felt the lump in his throat soften a little.  It had been a long time since he and Iris had a fight that they couldn’t resolve quickly – but in the meantime, at least Barry still had STAR Labs to fall back on. 

“They were quite insistent,” said Dr. Wells from behind him as he steered into the main part of the Cortex.  “Especially since your concerns about her status as a metahuman are looking more plausible.” 

“I filled them in,” Cisco explained.  “I was able to get access to the VA’s online records.  Most of the info is redacted, but there’s a name – Bette sans Souci.  She was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan, received a medical discharge a couple months before the particle accelerator blew.”

Caitlin pursed her lips.  “EOD?”

“Explosive Ordinance Disposal,” Dr. Wells hummed.  “Bombs.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “Well that’s an origin story if I’ve ever heard one.  Definitely explains why the military might be interested.” 

Dr. Wells’ eyes narrowed.  “Cisco didn’t mention military involvement in the case.  Elaborate, if you will.” 

Barry tamped down the surprised glow that momentarily filled him at the sound of Dr. Wells _asking_ him for something.  “Detective Snart called my boss, Lisa, while we were on our way back from the bombing site.  Apparently the CCPD’s been ordered off the bombing investigation.  Some general – Eiling, I think his name was.” 

Dr. Wells closed his eyes momentarily.  “So it’s come to this.  I was wondering when we would hear from General Eiling.” 

“Wait – you know him?”  Barry stared at his mentor.  “But he’s – an ass.” 

Dr. Wells let out a short bark of laughter, and out of the corner of his eye Barry saw Caitlin and Cisco glance at each other in surprise.  “Considering you met him only briefly, a remarkably apt description.  General Wade Eiling was a former research colleague of mine – he was interested in developing enhanced gene therapies for military use.  I was interested in the medical applications, the potential benefits for civilians, but Eiling was interested in weaponizing our findings.  I terminated our working relationship, but the split was hardly amicable.” 

“What were you and General Eiling studying?” Cisco asked.  “I don’t remember STAR Labs having any military contracts.” 

“We were still in our infancy at the time – my brief foray into the world of military contracting ended eight years ago,” Dr. Wells explained.  “Eiling was interested in developing mind-reading capabilities for interrogation purposes.  He’s always been fascinated by the potential of the superhuman.” 

Barry remembered the speculative way that Eiling had eyed Detective Snart back at the station, and shivered.  “The particle accelerator accident must have been a dream come true for him, then.” 

“I’ve long expected that he might pursue an interest in metahumans,” Dr. Wells sighed.  “Fortunately we were able to keep your existence a secret.  None of our data on the Flash is accessible to the government.” 

“Oh my god, that – guys, thank you,” Barry sighed.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that the military might be able to access STAR Lab’s records in the wake of the explosion.  But he was willing to bet that not all metahumans were as lucky as he was.  “What about Bette, though?” he asked.  “If Eiling knows about her, she’s in danger.  We have to help her.  Cisco, were you able to get an address or phone number out of that folder?” 

“There was an emergency contact,” Cisco said, turning his attention back to the monitors.  “Cameron Scott – he’s in Anglewood.” 

Barry removed his costume from the mannequin and zipped into an adjacent room to change.  “If the military has access to that information she might have chosen to hide out somewhere else,” he said when he emerged.  “But it’s as good a place to start as any.” 

“Barry,” said Dr. Wells before he could speed out of the Cortex.  “You’re playing a dangerous guessing game here.  We have no way of confirming whether Bette sans Souci is a metahuman, or whether she is someone we should help.  It is entirely possible that she is a domestic terrorist, or an enemy metahuman, or both.”

“I know, Dr. Wells.”  Barry paused.  “But I still want to know the truth.” 

Barry knew the route to Anglewood – one of the smaller neighborhoods in Central, with mixed businesses and residences – fairly well, leaving him free to turn over his mentor’s statements as he ran.  He would rather have not thought about the fact that Dr. Wells had a good point.  Since learning about the military’s interest in Bette, he’d been more interested in giving her the benefit of the doubt than bringing her to justice. 

And the circumstances of his interest were so fickle - if he hadn’t managed to save the window-washer, Bette would already be on his list.  As much as it pained him to think about, if Bette really was out for blood, he’d have to turn her in.  He wasn’t going to let anyone die. 

Barry frowned and decided to set the moral quandary aside for the time being.  For now, the truth was enough to strive for. 

He skidded to a stop in the mouth of an alley, squinting through the darkening sky at the number on the building in front of him.  This was the place – but the lights inside were out, and the space was quiet. 

Either Bette wasn’t here, or she was expecting trouble. 

Barry climbed the fire escape until he reached a back window and checked it surreptitiously.  Locked.  Shit – either he was going to have to try the front door, or he was going to have to break in here. 

Anyone inside the house would hear the glass shattering, but the front door would be harder to open – and Barry was relatively sure that, if Bette was being as cautious as he would be in her situation, she’d have all the entrances booby-trapped.  The windows might be booby-trapped as well, but from what he could tell it didn’t have a screen, so the glass falling inward would probably take care of any quick-activating charges. 

 _If only Iris could see her hero now,_ he thought with a wry smile.  She would kill him if she ever found out he’d broken a civilian’s window.  He’d have to come by later and replace it, or at least leave Cameron Scott some money to get the repair taken care of. 

Barry placed his hands on the glass, vibrating them gently.  This was one of the more useful tricks he’d figured out – he still hadn’t mastered the finer aspects of his control, but he was good at breaking things.  He’d gotten out of Detective Snart’s handcuffs without much trouble, so a window should be easy. 

He increased the speed of the vibrations, his fingers rattling the windowpane until the glass shattered. 

Barry leaped away from the window, but there was no detonation, no noise from inside the house.  He cautiously levered himself through the window, taking care to avoid the broken fragments clinging to the windowpane. 

He touched a hand to his comm.  “Is anyone there?” he whispered. 

“Barry?” said Caitlin.  “We’re here.  Is everything okay?  We heard something loud.”

“Yeah – everything’s fine.  I’m checking out the apartment now, but I don’t think Bette is here.  Cisco, can you try and find out where she might have gone?” 

“He’s on it,” Caitlin replied.  “How did you get in the apartment?  Was the door open?” 

“Um.  No.  I may have broken in through the window?”    

“You did _what,”_ Caitlin said flatly, and Barry winced.  Shit, he’d definitely be hearing about this one later. 

“I did what I had to do!” he defended at a stage whisper as he crept through the dark apartment, footsteps muffled by the carpet.  “Otherwise we’d still be stuck on this address - and I’m going to fix the window tonight, it’ll be fine.  It’ll take me three seconds!” 

Caitlin had a few more choice things to say, but Barry tuned her out as he did a quick sweep of the upstairs landing.  Part of the space had been converted into a makeshift office; Barry gave the files on the small desk a quick once-over, but refrained from going through any of the drawers – if Cisco’s search came back empty he could do a more thorough investigation, but until then he’d avoid digging through Cameron Scott’s personal files more than necessary. 

The rooms along the upstairs hallway weren’t particularly interesting – closets for coats and linens, a tiny hall bathroom – until Barry reached the end of the hallway and opened the door on the master bedroom. 

The room itself was small, almost Spartan in its furnishings – apparently Cameron Scott wasn’t one for interior decorating.  The space reminded Barry vaguely of his own childhood room at Martin and Clarissa’s house, minus the science posters and general clutter.  He flicked on the light and did a quick sweep of the room, rifling through the dresser before moving on to the bedside table.  He pulled the drawer open and swallowed – there was a handgun in the bedside table. 

“Cisco, there’s a gun here,” he said.  “It looks like it’s a Beretta M9 – can civilians even own these?  I thought they were military pistols.” 

“They are,” Cisco said over the clatter of keys.  “But a version was recently approved for civilian sale.  It’s basically the same gun, but with a few tweaks to the construction.  Lemme check the records – boom.  One concealed carry permit for a Cameron Scott, Beretta M9.  It’s his gun.” 

“Well, at least Bette doesn’t have a stolen gun in addition to her bombs,” Barry said, frowning.  He closed the bedside table’s dresser carefully before looking under the bed.

At first glance, there wasn’t much to look at.  There was a small collection of shoes, arranged in neat rows, next to a gleaming metal safe.  Barry pursed his lips before leaning in and pressing an ear to the cold surface.  “I’m gonna try and crack this safe,” he said.  “It’s a small one, under the bed – is there any kind of hearing-amplification in my suit?  I’m not sure I’ll be able to hear the tumblers in one this size.” 

“Sorry, man,” Cisco said.  “I can get one made for next time, but I didn’t know you were gonna be going James Bond on us today.  By the way, safecracking?  Definitely cool.”

“It’s been a while,” Barry admitted.  “But it’s worth a shot – I was really good at figuring out kids’ locker combinations in high school.”

Barry closed his eyes and began turning the dial, listening intently for the heavier sound of a catching wheel against the background clicking of the tumblers.  Thankfully, this wasn’t an expensive safe – it probably wouldn’t have more than four numbers in the combination, and the metal door amplified the sound of the turning lock so it was easier to hear than it would have been otherwise. 

The process took time – longer than Barry would have liked – but in five minutes he had several possible combinations of passcodes filed away in his short-term memory.  _Thank you, past me, for bothering to learn this.  And thank you superpowers._

“Barry, we’ve got a lead on where Bette might have gone,” Cisco said in Barry’s ear.

“Awesome,” Barry said, flashing back over to the bedside table and grabbing a pen and paper.  He started scribbling down permutations.  “I’ve almost got this safe, I just need a couple more minutes.  Talk to me.” 

“We think that Bette might be headed to the office of a Dr. Harold Hadley,” Caitlin said.  “He was her physician when she returned from Afghanistan, and he’s worked with General Eiling in the past.  Maybe Bette is trying to find out how much the military knows about her.” 

“That makes a lot of sense,” Barry said, biting his lip as he made his way through the fourth permutation.  “Where is his office?” 

“It’s in Anglewood, not far from you.” 

The sixth combination fell through, and Barry gritted his teeth.  “Awesome.  I’ll head there in a minute.” 

“Barry, your dedication to cracking Mr. Scott’s safe is… admirable,” Dr. Wells said slowly.  “But your priority needs to be finding sans Souci, not sleuthing through the life of her accomplice.” 

Barry’s fingers stilled.  Why did Dr. Wells always have to have a point?  Barry had even deliberately chosen to exclude Cameron Scott’s files in his search of the house – yet here he was, cracking the man’s safe.  “I’ll give it three more minutes, then I’ll leave it,” Barry compromised, his hand returning to the dial.  “Pinky promise.” 

Dr. Wells made a small confused-sounding noise and Cisco laughed; Barry tuned out the voices on the other end of his comm and continued trying numbers.  With a four-tumbler lock, there were twenty-four possible permutations using the numbers he’d found – he was reasonably sure that one of them would open the safe, but he’d still have to get lucky.  Speeding through the combinations wouldn’t help him this time. 

At combination number eleven, Barry felt the lock catch under his fingers.  He grinned.  “Guys, I’m in.”

He pulled the door open and raised his eyebrows.  The safe was practically empty except for a few personal artifacts – a passport, an old military ID, and what looked like insurance documents – but towards the back, he saw another small handgun and several boxes of ammunition.  Thank fuck he hadn’t tried to vibrate his way in. 

“This is a gun safe,” he said, biting his lip.  “I wonder what Cameron Scott is afraid of, if he has a gun safe in his apartment but sleeps with a pistol in his bedside table.” 

“Is there anything we can use?” Dr. Wells asked. 

“It’s just documents and ammo,” Barry sighed.  “We probably won’t need it.  Sorry for wasting time.” 

“You had no way of knowing.  Let’s move on.”  Dr. Wells sounded satisfied, and Barry’s shoulders relaxed. 

He locked the safe and replaced the pad of paper on the bedside table, but hesitated over the pen.  It really was very nice.  He gave the top a few experimental clicks, and grimaced – it felt just like his old one, the one he’d broken on his first day at the office.  _Hmmm._

Barry darted out of the bedroom and over to the desk on the landing, opening the first drawer and rifling through the office supplies.  He saw two identical pens sitting in the desk and breathed a sigh of relief.  So this one wasn’t special – he had more of them. 

Guilt assuaged, he crammed the pen into his belt.  It was a tight fit – maybe he could convince Cisco to work a pocket into the next model. 

Feeling pleased with himself, he got Dr. Hadley’s address from Cisco and zipped out of the broken window.

Night had fallen while he was in the apartment, he realized, his stomach sinking.  His search had taken longer than he’d thought.  He pushed himself faster – he had to get to Bette before anything else bad happened – and felt a flutter of relief when he was able to maintain control. 

He slid to a stop in a flurry of sparks, staring up at the words written on the nondescript office building in front of him – _Center For Inflicted Wounds, Dr. Harold Hadley_.  “This is the place.  Cisco, what’s the floor number?” 

“Second floor – wait, hold on.”  Barry heard furious typing and swallowed – that was Cisco’s ‘not good’ voice, and by this point Barry was convinced that anything that made Cisco nervous wouldn’t bode well for him.  “Dr. Wells and I were able to hack into Eiling’s communications, and we’re picking up chatter.  They’re headed to Dr. Hadley’s office.” 

Barry drew a sharp breath.  “How long do I have?” 

“I’d say five minutes, maybe less.” 

 _Perfect,_ Barry thought as he set off up the stairs.  He was running in blind, to confront a potentially angry potential metahuman, with no plan and no backup.  He could only hope that he would be able to reason with Bette before the military descended on Anglewood. 

Barry paused outside the door, his heart sinking as he picked up the sound of voices.  Bette was confronting Hadley – something about comas and experiments, losing control of her powers. 

“You helped make me into this,” she said, her voice low and even.  “You owe me the truth.” 

That was a cue if Barry had ever heard one.  He stepped into the room.  “I think I can help with that.” 

Dr. Hadley’s mouth fell open, but Barry’s attention was all for Bette.  She looked just like the security guard had described her – young, dark red hair.  She was even still wearing the leather jacket, along with a pair of slim black leather gloves. 

Barry told himself that the gloves were a good sign.  Gloves probably meant no explosions – so she wasn’t here to attack anyone.  He allowed himself to relax slightly. 

Bette turned to study him out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t take her attention off of Hadley.  “Who are you?”

“I’m the Flash,” he said, and Bette’s eyebrows rose.  “I hear you’ve been looking for answers.” 

“If this is about the office building, I really am sorry about that.”  Bette’s face was smooth and impassive as she shifted slightly, beginning to turn her back on the doctor.  “But I came here to learn who was responsible for what happened to me, and I will find out.” 

“I know!” Barry blurted.  “And believe me, I understand.  But you don’t have the whole story. The military didn’t do this to you.  They may have experimented on you-” Barry shot a glare at Dr. Hadley “-but they aren’t the reason you’re like this.  Nine months ago, a particle accelerator exploded and the accident – it changed people.  Gave them powers, turned them into metahumans.” 

Bette frowned.  “Nine months ago I was in Central City waiting on an operation to remove bomb shrapnel from my body.  If what you’re saying is true…”

“- Then the blast could have done something to the shrapnel in your system,” Barry finished. 

Bette turned to face him fully.  “You seem to know a lot about this.” 

“I know the people responsible,” Barry said.  “They didn’t mean for this to happen.  They helped me after I got my powers, saved my life.  Maybe they can help you too.” 

Barry’s earpiece crackled.  “The military is almost there – if you’re gonna go, you need to go now,” Cisco said. 

“I can take you to them,” Barry said quickly.  “But we have to go now, or we’ll be out of time!” 

The moment seemed to stretch on forever – and then Bette nodded, her expression resolute.  “Fine.  I’ll go with you.  Be careful though!” she said, jumping back as he moved to pick her up.  “I can’t control – whatever this is.  Anything I touch could explode.” 

Barry stared.  “Including me, like my entire body.” 

“That’s the theory, yes.”   

And this was why asking first was the best policy.  “Boy am I glad I didn’t pick you up at super-speed,” Barry huffed.  He scooped Bette up in a bridal-style carry, making sure not to touch any of her skin, and ran out of the office building.  Bette gasped in surprise, and he grinned – it wasn’t often that he got a chance to show off his speed to someone new.  It was fun. 

At the end of the street, Barry saw a fleet of military vehicles approaching and sent a silent thanks to his team – getting past a cordon that size would have been a nightmare with a passenger. 

When Barry blew into the Cortex, Cisco leaped out of his chair.  “Jesus, Barry, you scared me half to dea- _ohmygod_ you brought her back.  Is she gonna blow us up?”  Bette stared at him levelly, and Cisco blushed.  “Not that I think Barry would have brought you back here if he thought you were gonna blow us up!  I’ll just – I’ll stop talking now.  Barry, help?”

Barry looked up at the ceiling.  Well, there went his secret identity.  “Cisco, ix-nay on the name.” 

Cisco’s eyes widened.  “Right – sorry.”  He looked pleadingly at Bette.  “Can you just forget all of that?” 

Bette’s smile held a hint of a sharp edge, but thankfully she seemed to be taking everything in stride.  She eyed Barry, her gaze assessing but light.  “Of course – Cisco.  _Flash’s_ name is safe with me _._ ” 

Caitlin sighed and approached Bette with her hand outstretched.  “Please ignore Cisco,” she said with a smile.  “My name is Dr. Caitlin Snow, and we’re all glad you’re here.” 

Bette stared at her as if there had been some sort of mistake, but ultimately took Caitlin’s hand in her gloved one.  “Thank you,” she said with a small smile.  “I’m glad to be here.  Flash said that you would be able to figure out what happened to me.” 

Caitlin nodded.  “That is part of what we do here, yes.” 

“Do you think you’ll be able to reverse it?” 

Caitlin’s smile froze, and Dr. Wells seemed to take pity on her.  “It’s too early to say for certain,” he said smoothly, gliding over from behind the desk.  “But it is late.  Would you like to sleep here, seargent?  I am sure that my team is more than capable of arranging something comfortable.”

“I’ll get on it,” Cisco said.  “I was planning on pulling an all-nighter.  You get your sleep and we do tests in the morning?” 

Bette nodded slowly.  “That would be nice.” 

Barry watched Bette head into the other room and touched Caitlin’s shoulder before she could follow.  “Um – Caitlin, could I talk to you for a second?” 

“Sure, Barry,” she said, her eyes slightly wide.  “What is it, are you hurt?” 

“Wha – no, it’s.  It’s personal stuff, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Caitlin’s eyes widened in surprise, and Barry wanted to smack himself as he realized how poorly he’d been handling things in spite of his resolution to be more open.  Caitlin still thought that she was just a doctor to him, even though he was beginning to think of her and Cisco as friends.   

He’d have to fix this.  In the meantime, hopefully this conversation wouldn’t come off as too weird.  “I was thinking… When Dr. Wells mentioned sleeping arrangements, I just remembered.  Would it be okay if I crashed on your couch?  Or on your floor, wherever is fine really.” 

“My apartment has a sofa,” Caitlin said slowly, staring at him.  “And it’s fine – I’m glad you asked me.  I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to answer me, but where have you been sleeping until now?” 

Barry stared at the floor.  “I’ve been sleeping on Iris’ couch.  She’s been staying at Eddie’s place a lot, but she gave me a key so I’ve been letting myself in at night.  But she’s mad at me right now, and using her space just… doesn’t feel right.” 

Caitlin nodded.  “I see.  But no, I wouldn’t mind the company.  Ronnie and I signed the lease on this place while we were engaged, and after the accelerator… I couldn’t get out of it.  It’s a lot, being there by myself.  Too quiet.” 

She turned her head away, a brief, jerky motion, and Barry took a deep breath.  “I lost somebody that night,” he said.  “My foster dad.” 

Caitlin turned back in surprise.  “Doctor Martin Stein,” Barry said quietly, as if keeping the words close to him could make them less true.  “He was on his way to STAR Labs when the accelerator blew.  I think he wanted to congratulate Dr. Wells in person.  I didn’t know until I tried to go home.” 

That was the thing about waking up nine months after the fact – the world had already accepted what had happened, moved on before he’d begun to flounder.  After Jitters, he’d taken an Uber straight to his foster family’s doorstep, expecting to see them both happy and well.  Instead he’d been greeted by a Clarissa several shades thinner, her smile too small, and an empty space where Martin should have been. 

Another family of his that had been torn apart – and this time, instead of bearing witness, he’d slept through it. 

That had been the first time he’d run. 

“I want to give you a hug,” Caitlin said with a wan smile.  “Can I?” 

Barry wordlessly held out an arm and Caitlin pulled him into an awkward sideways embrace.  “Clarissa visited often,” she said.  “She and Iris liked to come together.  I’m sorry we weren’t able to warn you before you found out the hard way.” 

“Not your fault,” Barry said with a tiny chuckle.  “I _did_ dash out of here right after I woke up.” 

“After that, we should have known for certain that you’d have superpowers.”  Caitlin said, smiling.  She released him and took her jacket off the back of a chair.  “Shall we go?  I imagine that we’ll both need to be back here bright and early for the tests with Bette.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Barry agreed, then frowned as the mention of tests jogged his memory.  “Shit – actually, I have to run by the precinct and start those bomb residue tests before I go to sleep.  Want me to run you home first?” 

“I can take my car,” Caitlin said.  “But if you offered a lift to work tomorrow, I wouldn’t say no.” 

Barry grinned.  “I can manage that.  I’ll text you when I’m leaving the lab.” 

As he ran to the CCPD, he couldn’t help turning their conversation, and their hug, over in his head.  What a painful common ground he and Caitlin shared – and when he thought about it, she’d still come off worse.  Barry had lost a father figure, but he’d gained superpowers and a team – friends – he could count on.  Caitlin’s entire future had been ripped out from under her – her fiancé dead, her career in shambles.  And still she’d stayed at STAR Labs, had helped to save his life.  Now she was helping him make a difference in Central City – and she’d never asked for so much as a thank-you in return. 

Barry would make it up to her, somehow.  He didn’t want to replace Ronnie, but he could make sure that Caitlin knew she was still important, still valued.  After all she’d done for him, he owed her at least that much. 

* * *

It was nice working in the station at night, Len reflected as he carried a stack of folders up the stairs from Lisa’s lab.  Things were quiet.  He could keep his sister company, if she was working late.  And there were fewer people to bother him.  Except for the officers working the graveyard shift, the building was empty – and the night crew never bothered him. 

He pushed open the door and stepped out into the lobby; it was almost deserted.  Good. 

The room was brighter than usual, though.  Len frowned, looking up for the source of the light, and noticed that it was coming from Barry’s lab. 

The corner of his mouth quirked upward.  So the kid was a night owl too, was he?  That, or he’d left a light on during the day. 

After a brief hesitation, Len started for the stairs.  His files could wait for a few minutes.  Besides, if Barry was wasting electricity, that would affect the CCPD’s budget.  As a cop, it was his job to investigate. 

But no, there was Barry Allen, hunched over the CCPD’s old mass spectrometer and wearing an honest-to-god lab coat.  _Cute._ “My sister has better equipment in her basement,” he called, stepping into the room. 

Barry jumped and spun around, then relaxed when he saw Len.  “Thank god it’s you,” he said, smiling.  “I’m running some tests on the glass from the bombing site – I managed to get some residue off of it, not much but hopefully enough.  I didn’t want to do it in Lisa’s lab, though.  That’s the first place General Eiling would go to look for evidence – he’s not gonna check the assistant’s lab.”

“That’s good thinking,” Len said, holding in a smile when Barry visibly brightened at the praise.  “That reminds me.  You missed the excitement earlier.  Eiling and his men cornered sans Souci in Anglewood.  Had her caught to rights.  But the Flash helped her escape.” 

Barry’s lips twitched in a tiny smirk.  It shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was.  “I bet Eiling wasn’t happy about that.” 

Len shook his head.  “He’s convinced the Flash and sans Souci are working together.”

“And you’re not?” Barry said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Not completely.  Things aren’t adding up.”  Len closed his eyes briefly.  “Doesn’t matter though.  Eiling’s insisting that I join the strike team.  Wants my expertise.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Because there are metahumans involved?  Or because he wants to know more about _you?_ ” 

“Still trying to figure that out.”  Len didn’t think Eiling would actively move against him; too many people would notice if he vanished for the general to be able to take him into military custody.  For a brief second, Len amused himself with the thought of Lisa and Mick beating a path to the government’s doorstep – no, Eiling would never be able to come after him directly.    But he would still be able to learn plenty about Len’s powers, his weaknesses. 

The other metahumans involved in the case wouldn’t be so lucky, though.  Bette sans Souci was being directly targeted by the military, and the Flash had managed to find his way onto their radar as well. 

Flash’s case in particular was giving Len a headache.  Maybe the speedster was trouble, but he was still most likely a civilian.  The military could insist all they liked, but Flash belonged in prison, not in some lab serving as a human science experiment. 

Barry took several steps closer to Len, his hands folded in front of him.  “I don’t like this,” he said quietly.  “Just – be careful, okay?  I know you’ve been doing this a while, but the military isn’t going to have your back.” 

The kid actually looked angry on his behalf, and Len briefly indulged in the mental image of Barry Allen, CSI, storming a military base alongside his sister and best friend.  It was… nice.  “I’ll be careful,” he promised, and Barry smiled.  “You take care of yourself too,” Len insisted. 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Wha – but you’ll be the one out there, _not_ me.  I’m just gonna be in my lab!” 

“Be that as it may, you’re involving yourself,” Len said.  “Don’t let Eiling find out.” 

“Oh.”  Barry frowned, his forehead wrinkling.  “I will.  Thanks for the heads-up.” 

As he left Barry’s lab, Len realized that the CSI hadn’t considered his role in their illegal investigation to be dangerous at all.  That was – concerning. 

He resolved to make sure that Lisa had a word with him about it.  The kid needed to learn how to cover his tracks if he was going to help him and his sister, or he’d wind up in trouble – professionally, maybe even physically. 

That wouldn’t happen on Len’s watch.  Not if he could help it. 


	6. Kindling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I'm back! April was quite a month, but now that most of my exams are over I'll be able to get back to regular updates again. Thanks to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter - your reviews kept me motivated to write bits and pieces of this chapter when I could. I'll be replying to them all, per usual, though probably not tonight! 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the previous two, but I decided to cut it off here in order to set up for the next chapter, which will be a doozy. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

“Okay, I will admit it – this is pretty exciting,” Caitlin said. 

“Um, duh,” Cisco said, beaming.  “Instead of taking down the meta of the week, we get to watch her blow stuff up?  Definitely beats a day at the office.” 

Behind his mask, Barry grinned.  They’d decided to take Bette out to Ferris Air in the mobile lab to test her powers, and his team’s enthusiasm for the venture had proven infectious.  The nostalgia was just an extra bonus.  This was where it had all started for Barry – if he closed his eyes he could still remember that first breathless run, the possibilities spread out open and endless on the tarmac. 

And now, through some strange set of coincidences, he had another metahuman to share this place with.  Bette looked better than she had last night.  Safety and rest had done her good – her face had lost its pallor, and her smile lacked some of its previous sharpness. 

Bette looked _hopeful,_ and it made Barry’s chest glow with pride. 

“Are you ready?” he said, holding out the first of several test items – a Frisbee that Cisco had rigged with sensors to gather information on the detonation. 

Bette tugged off her gloves and stowed them in her coat pocket.  “As ready as I’ll ever be.  Let’s do this.” 

Barry handed her the Frisbee and watched in fascination as the plastic beneath Bette’s fingers took on a luminous purple glow.  Bette flung the Frisbee into the air, where it hung briefly before exploding in a burst of thick, oily flame. 

“Awesome,” Cisco breathed. 

They performed several more tests, checking the effects of material composition on the resulting explosion.  The blasts all looked more or less the same to Barry, and his suspicions were confirmed when they gathered around Cisco’s laptop to look at the data.  “That’s weird,” the engineer said, pursing his lips.  “No matter what the projectile was made of, all the blasts had the same incendiary profile as your standard nitrogen-based plastique – _ooh.”_ Cisco snapped his fingers.  “Plastique!  That’s a keeper.  First try, oh yes.” 

“Cisco likes to come up with nicknames for the metahumans we run into,” Barry explained.

“I’m… oddly charmed,” Bette said with a tiny smile.  “Did he nickname you?” 

“Nope,” Barry said, grinning.  “Picked mine out myself.” 

“Still not over it,” Cisco grumbled. 

The camaraderie was refreshing, and for once Barry found himself basking in the good-humored noise of people around him.  Now that she was more relaxed, Bette meshed with the team surprisingly well; Cisco seemed to enjoy her wry humor as much as her powers, and Caitlin was clearly pleased to have another woman around.  Dr. Wells seemed to be reserving judgment, but Barry was hardly surprised.  Hopefully Bette would grow on him, once he saw how well she worked with the group.  

As they loaded the gear back into the mobile lab, Bette began telling them about her time in Afghanistan, including what had happened the day she’d been injured.  “There’s nothing like it,” she said as she climbed into the van and clumsily buckled her seatbelt with gloved fingers.  “One moment you’re minding your own business, the next you’ve become a statistic.  They started booby-trapping vehicles while I was on tour.  I got caught in the blast.  Shrapnel ripped through me.  They sent me back to Central City for surgery – and now here I am.”  She frowned, fiddling with the hem of her glove.  “I used to think I’d been one of the lucky ones, making it home in mostly one piece.  Now I’m not sure that’s true.” 

Barry placed a daring hand on her knee.  “This won’t be a burden forever,” he said.  “We will help you.” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “We have quite the arsenal waiting for us back at STAR Labs.  With any luck, we will find a way to ease your condition.” 

Bette smiled grimly.  “Ease my condition – that’s what Dr. Hadley said to me, before he started cutting me open.”  The van gave a slight jerk, and Barry caught sight of Caitlin’s wide eyes in the rearview mirror.  “I don’t want these powers eased, I want them gone,” Bette said firmly.  “I want to have a life again.”  She looked over at Barry.  “If you could stop being the Flash, would you?” 

Barry swallowed and looked away, briefly meeting Dr. Wells’ eyes before staring at the floor.  “I don’t know if I could,” he admitted quietly.  “I got lucky with these powers – they can be tough sometimes, but they’re a part of my life now.  Without them I just – wouldn’t be the same me.”  He looked up and stared around the van.  “Does that make sense?” 

“It does,” Dr. Wells said, nodding.    

Barry helped Caitlin and Cisco unload the van, then turned to his mentor.  “Hey, do you guys think you can start the tests without me?  I left a mass spectrometry test running overnight at the station, and I need to make sure no one finds it.” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “We should be able to make an acceptable start without you, Flash.  Give Detective Snart my regards.” 

As Barry grabbed his civilian clothes and took off in the direction of the CCPD, he realized that he couldn’t remember mentioning his odd friendship with Snart to his mentor before.  _He probably heard about him from Cisco,_ Barry decided, and put the matter from his mind.

* * *

Lisa slammed the filing cabinet shut and fixed Len with a piercing glare.  “Absolutely not.” 

Len closed his eyes.  “Lis, I’m not asking.  I’ve been given orders-”

“Which you don’t have to follow, seeing as how Eiling and his goons manhandled the CCPD into handing over the case to begin with!” Lisa snapped. 

“Do you know what will happen if those _goons_ get their hands on Bette sans Souci?” Len growled.  “She’s destructive on her own, and the military wants her.  The government.  Corruption, abuse of power, people losing their rights.”  He fixed his gaze on his sister.  “It’s everything we joined the force to prevent.” 

Lisa scowled.  “Don’t you think I know that?  I’m not an idiot, Lenny.  But Eiling is using you.  He won’t give a damn if something goes wrong.”

Len felt the corners of his mouth twitch.  “You sound like Barry.” 

“Thank god someone else in this place has some sense, then,” Lisa huffed. 

Len frowned and opened his mouth to deliver a retort, but before he could speak, Barry Allen burst through the door of the lab.  “Lisa, I have the results – oh, hey Snart!” he said with a brief grin.  “I didn’t know you were down here.” 

Len gave a tiny smile in reply, because Barry would serve as a perfect distraction and the CSI’s unguarded grin made him look like human sunshine.  While wearing work-appropriate denim, no less.  Wonders never ceased. 

“Barry!” Lisa grinned.  “We were just talking about you.  Please tell my brother that he shouldn’t go out on the town with General Eiling.” 

Barry blanched, eyes widening until he looked like a startled deer on the interstate.  “Um.” 

“Leave the kid alone,” Len said, moving to stand beside him.  “He came down to share results, not referee our little tennis match.  What did you find?” he said, re-focusing on Barry. 

The kid blushed.  It was endearing, an actual blush on a twenty-five year old.  “Nothing much – the explosive medium has a really high nitrogen content, though, which I thought I should probably tell you about because of your powers.” 

Len frowned.  “Interesting.  Think there could be some sort of chain reaction?” 

“There’s really no way to tell,” Barry said with a tiny shrug.  “Unless you try to ice one or something, but by then it wouldn’t help much to know.” 

“Makes sense,” Len said, turning to his sister to gauge her reaction. 

He wasn’t expecting what he saw.  Lisa was staring wide-eyed at Barry, a small, frozen expression of surprise on her face.  “Okay, Barry, fess up.  I knew my brother liked you, but he told you about his accident?” 

Len winced inwardly, because of course Lisa would have caught onto his interest in Barry.  Then he frowned.  “Actually, I haven’t,” he said, staring at his sister but watching Barry out of the corner of his eye. 

The CSI’s shoulders hunched.  “Um, I – if you didn’t want me to know, I’m sorry.”  He glanced briefly away from Len.  “I was curious, so I asked a friend about it,” he said.  “Are you mad?”

“No,” Len sighed.  “But next time, ask _me._ ”  It wasn’t that he’d tried to keep the details a secret.  The officers around the station all knew, of course, and he’d have told Barry if the CSI had asked.  But he hadn’t, and Len’s origin story was hardly public knowledge. 

Barry grimaced.  “I will.  That was – rude of me.” 

Len nodded, satisfied for the time being.  “I’m assuming Miss West already filled you in on the gory details,” he said, wiggling his gloved fingers for emphasis. 

  Barry did a double-take.  “Iris?  Um, yeah.  She’s filled me in on a lot of what I missed while I was in the coma.  She’s mad at me right now, though.” 

It was a poor deflection tactic, but since Len wasn’t actually angry at Barry he decided not to press the issue.   “Is she?”

Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah.  Both of us are having some… stubbornness issues.  We’ll figure it out.” 

“Anything we could help with?” Lisa said.

“Not this.”  Barry shook his head firmly.  “It’s my responsibility to talk to her about it, which I will – I just want to give her some time to cool off.  But I’m not gonna blab about our problems.  With all due respect,” he added hastily when Lisa grinned.  “You’re a really cool boss and you’re both awesome, but Iris would kick my ass.” 

“No, that’s good,” Lisa said, still smiling broadly.  “I like that you’re not one to kiss and tell.” 

Barry grimaced even as a blush crawled up his face.  “Ha, you’re funny.  There is absolutely no kissing.  She’s been my best friend forever.” 

Lisa smiled pensively, an expression that Len knew better than to trust.  “That’s interesting.  Are you busy this afternoon?”

“Yes?” Barry said, sending Len a pleading glance.  “I have to go to an appointment, just routine stuff, but I might be back tonight.” 

“Bummer,” Lisa sighed.  “I was hoping you’d be able join Lenny and me for lunch, seeing as how you and my brother seem to enjoy eating together.”

Her smile looked like a trap snapping shut, and Barry’s blush deepened by several shades.  “Another time, definitely – but I’ve gotta go.  I just wanted to give you those test results – I’ll see you later!  Unless you’re busy, in which case good luck with the military and everything!”

Barry retreated from the room, face still slightly pink, and when the door closed behind him a thick silence fell over the basement lab.  Len slowly turned his head to look at his sister.  “Why did you do that?  You embarrassed him.” 

Lisa snapped her fingers.  “See – that, right there.  That’s the second time in five minutes that you’ve defended him.  Don’t even bother trying to tell me you’re not interested.” 

Len took a deep breath.  “Barry and I are friends.  That is all.” 

“That’s bullshit.  I saw you staring at his ass.” 

Len ignored her.  He’d only glanced at Barry’s jeans once throughout that entire conversation, and Lisa couldn’t prove anything. 

“Clearly you need help,” Lisa said, switching tactics.  “If you’re so adamant about sticking your nose into military corruption, the least you can do is let me manage the homefront.” 

Len raised an eyebrow.  “You’re harassing a coworker on my behalf.  I fail to see how that’s helping.” 

“I’d feel better about the military thing if you had backup,” Lisa said, talking over him as she began flipping through Barry’s file of test results.  “If you’re not going to let me help you, I think you should phone a friend.  Bombs with a high nitrogen content, that you can’t safely defuse?  You know someone who you could ask for help with that.” 

A pulse of cold pushed its way to the surface of Len’s skin, and he shivered.  “I’m not bringing Mick into this.  He’s been working less, staying out of the public eye.” 

Lisa rolled her eyes.  “Lenny, he is in the _volunteer fire department._ He walked into a burning building last week and saved two kids and a cat.  That is _not_ keeping a low profile.” 

Len resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.  “Did he make the fire worse?” 

“He was actually able to put it out without help this time,” Lisa said thoughtfully.  “Maybe he’s getting better.”

“Optimism doesn’t suit you, sis.”  Len drummed his fingers on the surface of the metal work table.   “I’m not going to paint a target on his back.  I can handle Eiling.” 

“He would want to help.  He’s gonna be pissed when he finds out you’ve been keeping things from him,” Lisa sighed.  “And getting him a new lighter won’t cut it anymore.” 

“We can all go camping,” Len said dismissively.  “Give him a chance to burn something in peace.” 

He was definitely going to have to do _something_ for his friend after this _._ Mick had been one of the EMTs on call at STAR Labs the night the accelerator exploded, waiting on standby in case the protests turned ugly.  He’d been hit by the blast, of course.  Spent weeks in the hospital before Len woke up from his coma and could help him, edging in and out of delirium and setting almost everything he touched on fire. 

As soon as he’d heard that Mick was in the hospital too, Len had stumbled down to the burn unit in his gown and slippers and iced his best friend’s hands to the bed.    

Mick had melted his way free, laughing the entire time.  “Snart,” he’d grunted.  “Look at that.  Always knew you were a cold sonofabitch.” 

He’d taken to the metahuman lifestyle with a grace that surprised both Len and Lisa.  Cut back his hours at the hospital and started volunteering as a firefighter.  He’d waved off therapy, claiming that the job was a better outlet than anything else for the pyromania since for whatever reason he could stop fires almost as easily as he could start them, on a good day. 

On bad days, he and Len would leave the city and blow off steam – literally, in Mick’s case.  Melting his way out of Len’s traps seemed to be good for him. 

 _Camping it is,_ Len decided.  He and Lisa could afford to take a night off.  After this business with the military was over, they’d all need one.    

“I will be careful,” Len said to Lisa.  “But we need eyes on Eiling.  Bette sans Souci needs to be caught the right way.” 

Lisa sighed.  “Fine.  I’ll drop it – _this time._ But don’t you dare go running off half-cocked.  And if Eiling tries anything, shoot him.”

“Shoot him,” Len said.  “That’s your backup plan.” 

“Somewhere non-vital, obviously,” Lisa huffed. 

Len smiled to himself as he started for the door.  He almost wished that Eiling would try something, just so he could see Lisa take the man apart. 

When he emerged on the main level, he noticed Eiling standing in the middle of a knot of soldiers and police officers, discussing something in a low, urgent voice.  Thawne and West were standing in the group; as Len watched, they detached themselves from the crowd and approached. 

This didn’t bode well.

“They found sans Souci,” Thawne said without preamble.  “Or she found them.  Apparently she wants to turn herself in.” 

Len frowned.  “It’s obviously a trap.  She’s moving at Eiling directly.”

“That’s what I thought too.  Except Eiling doesn’t seem bothered,” West said.  “He gave her a time and place to meet them, and he seems pretty confident that she’s gonna show.  My guess is he’s got something in mind.” 

Len was relatively certain that the _something_ Eiling had in mind was human experimentation and imprisonment without trial.  “I’m assuming his plan involves me,” he said. 

“Eiling said he couldn’t do it without you,” Thawne sighed.  “He’s got a briefing all lined up.  Says he wants to leave right away so his men can get in position.” 

Len tilted his head, considering.  A quick turnaround would give sans Souci less time to set up an ambush of her own, but it would also prevent Len from having time to prepare his own contingencies.  If Eiling did decide to play his hand and take her into immediate military custody, there would be little Len could do to alter the outcome of the fight, except possibly make sans Souci’s bombs more dangerous than they were already. 

But he was going with them to provide oversight, at least in his book.  It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him.  Keep your ears to the ground,” Len said, and the other detectives nodded, catching his meaning. 

“Be careful out there,” West said.  “I could throw that man further than I trust him.” 

“You and me both, detective,” Len said with a smirk as he turned to walk away. 

“Snart!” called Thawne.  “If you’re not back in an hour, we’re coming after you.” 

The blond detective looked uncharacteristically serious, and Len nodded.  “You’ll have to fight Lisa for a spot in line.” 

As he approached the clump of men by the door, Len smiled slightly as he added his sometimes-partners to his list of offered rescuers.  Lisa and Mick.  Barry.  And now West and Thawne. 

He was building quite the following after all.  All the more reason to make sure there was no reason for them to worry. 


	7. Turnabout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for an update! Once again, thank you so much to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter. They're immensely cheering and I always look forward to learning what you all have to say. I'll be replying to them after dinner tonight! 
> 
> It took me a while to get the ball rolling on this chapter, but once I got started everything moved quick from there. I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you all enjoy reading it.

* * *

_Another day, another back seat,_ Len sighed to himself from his position in the corner of the cramped military van.  He made a mental note to bring both of his sometimes-partners coffee tomorrow, assuming he made it through the day alive.  West was a control freak about driving, sure, and Thawne tended to chatter, but they were still a sight better than Eiling.  The general and his men had been silent for the duration of the trip, and aside from a few terse replies to his questions at the station, they had hardly been forthcoming with information. 

Len had been counting the turns as they made them, but after thirty minutes in stop-and-go traffic his estimation of distance was hardly perfect.  To the best of his knowledge, they were somewhere in the vicinity of the warehouse district by the river.  More than that, he couldn’t say.

“Are we there yet?” he drawled.  Eiling’s eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror, but he made no reply. 

Len smiled.  When it came to unprofessionalism, two could play at that game. 

The van finally ground to a stop after exactly three and a half more minutes of driving.   When the doors slid open, Len’s eyebrows rose.  They’d come further than he’d expected; he recognized this part of town from his trips over to Mick’s place, back when both of them had been less notorious company.  They were on the far side of the river, a bit upstream from the docks, and if they weren’t as close to the main cluster of warehouses as he’d been expecting, his estimation hadn’t been completely off.  Eiling’s men were beginning to form ranks around the outside of a sterile-looking warehouse with white-painted metal walls and the Stagg Industries logo painted above the open door. 

Len made his way through the group of soldiers until he drew level with Eiling.  “Interesting choice of locations for a rendezvous,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the sharp black triangles on the door.  “Is Simon Stagg aware that you’re bringing a firefight to his doorstep?” 

Eiling narrowed his eyes, but when Len didn’t back down he gave a nod of acquiescence.  “This warehouse is mostly empty, and Mr. Stagg has been notified of our presence here.  The two of us will be meeting san Souci inside.  Rest assured, detective, there will be no unsanctioned _firefights_ today.” 

“And if Bette san Souci doesn’t share your sentiments?” Len said, unimpressed. 

“If she tries anything, my men will shoot her on sight,” Eiling said with the emotional detachment of a man picking a breakfast entrée. 

“And if they miss?” 

Eiling looked at Len sideways with a smile that could cut things.  “Then that’s why you’re here.”

 _Wonderful,_ Len grumbled inwardly.  Potentially unsanctioned shootouts, not to mention brawling with an enemy metahuman in a civilian company’s warehouse.  Lisa was going to kill him when he got back to the station.  

As they made their way through the perimeter and stepped inside, Len removed his gloves and allowed his powers to surge down his arms and into his fingertips.  As the temperature in his extremities dropped, Len felt the brief urge to shiver but forced it down when he noticed Eiling’s eyes on him.  The general’s stare alighted briefly on the stowed gloves in Len’s pocket, but he said nothing. 

The warehouse itself was as sterile inside as it was outside.  Everywhere he looked, Len saw more white and brushed metal, chilly and futuristic in a 1980s kind of way.  Tall shelving units divided the space into separate aisles, spanning from floor to ceiling.  Thankfully, aside from a few crates here and there, most of the shelves were empty.  Otherwise the entire building would have been a tactical nightmare. 

All in all, it still wasn’t a workable space, and definitely not one suited for hostage negotiations.  Eiling would have known that, which meant that he had some other game in mind. 

Len gritted his teeth.  Military politics.  At this point, the most favorable outcome would be for san Souci to attack their position before the rendezvous, giving Len the opportunity to arrest her without inviting a rain of sniper fire.  She’d get sent back to the military for tribunal, sure, but he and Lisa would be able to drum up enough publicity around the case to prevent her from disappearing.  Mick might even agree to talk about this one if Len played his cards right; his best friend tended to take it personally when metahumans made trouble in his neck of the woods. 

Eiling halted near the middle of the warehouse, settling into parade rest with the ease of long habit.  Apparently he was content to wait for san Souci to come to them. 

There was something about his nonchalance that made Len’s spine crawl.  He surreptitiously glanced around the warehouse, noting the locations of windows and exits.  They had a straight shot to the hangar-style door on the far side of the warehouse, but from his position Len could make out few of the windows that Eiling’s men were supposed to be watching. 

Len frowned.  The general was brusque, arrogant, and a human rights disaster waiting to happen, but he wasn’t incompetent.  If Eiling’s plan had really been to station troops around the perimeter to provide cover fire, he would have chosen a rendezvous point with clear visibility from all sides.  No sniper would be able to hit san Souci here, unless they made an incredibly lucky shot. 

Of course, their current shielded vantage point also offered Len protection from long-distance scope rifles, should they decide to take him out of the equation along with the target.  But he still sensed danger here. 

Eiling’s walkie-talkie squawked, and Len turned sharply toward the sound.  “My men have eyes on san Souci,” Eiling said.  “She is inside the warehouse.” 

“Interesting that we haven’t seen her,” Len quipped. 

Eiling gave him an indulgent smile.  “At ease, detective.  Sergeant san Souci will come to us.” 

“And if she doesn’t?” 

“She will.  She’s here for me,” Eiling said firmly.  “And if her intentions are less than honorable, I am confident that you’ll prove a match for her.” 

Len’s jaw tightened as he remembered Barry’s warning about san Souci’s explosives.  Hardly a safe or prudent match, if the CSI’s guess proved accurate. 

At least Eiling didn’t beat around the bush when it came to his intentions for Len, even if the entire situation had been misrepresented from the start.  If he and Eiling’s team made it back to the CCPD unharmed, Len would count them lucky. 

He heard the steady click of footsteps from the end of the aisle, looked up, and got his first proper look at Bette san Souci. 

They’d brought in a sketch artist to work with the security guard present at the bombing san Souci had orchestrated.  Len made a mental note to track down the artist’s information after this, because the drawing was an almost perfect match.  She was wearing the outfit she’d been drawn in – black leather jacket on black denim – but her bright red hair provided a jolt to the ensemble that no black-and-white sketch could capture. 

The sketch artist also hadn’t captured the grim determination in her eyes.  Those were no prisoner’s eyes. 

Frost hardened on the tips of Len’s fingernails, and he braced himself for a fight. 

“Sergeant,” Eiling called.  “I hear you’ve decided to turn yourself in.” 

“Not like I had much of a choice,” she replied.  Her hands tightened at her sides, and Len’s eyes narrowed.  “You’d have stopped at nothing to bring me in.  Hunted me no matter where I’d run.” 

Eiling nodded.  “Regardless of circumstance, you’re doing the right thing.  For the military and your country.” 

“I know I am,” Bette responded, cold steel in her eyes. 

She opened her hands, and Len saw two palmfuls of glowing purple spheres. 

Len had never seen a purple explosive before, but he’d dealt with enough metahumans to know trouble when he saw it.  Bette let the spheres fly and Len hit the deck, catching Eiling in the chest with one arm and pulling him down as well.  “Let me handle this,” he said over the crackle of the flames. 

The general stared at him with a look of mounting indignation that Len filed away for the next time he needed a laugh.  Thankfully, the man didn’t try anything rash.  After the bungle Eiling had made of the capture, Len was relieved that he seemed willing to defer. 

Experience made all the difference when dealing with metahumans, and that would be Len’s biggest asset here. 

Len advanced on Bette with ice coalescing in his palms, brain whirring.  He needed a plan.  Barry’s warning fresh in his mind, he wasn’t willing to risk freezing her bombs.  His only option was to prevent her from using them. 

It was Tony Woodward all over again.  _Disable and contain._

He fired a bolt of ice at san Souci’s feet, holding her in place.  She struggled to free herself, but Len ignored her efforts.  The sergeant was no Mick; his best friend could have melted his way free of the ice, but if Bette tried a similar tactic she would blow up her own feet along with her prison. 

Len worked quickly, moving around san Souci while keeping up a steady flow of ice from his hands.  She threw another of the glowing spheres at him; he ducked, and the projectile impacted against a warehouse shelf in a burst of flame. 

After several revolutions, Len paused to survey his handiwork.  The sergeant was walled in a cylindrical enclosure of ice, glittering on all sides with pale reflections in the light of the dying fire.  The top was open, so she’d have enough air, but any bombs she threw now would be as great a risk to herself as they would be to Len and the general. 

Len closed his eyes briefly.  He’d stopped the rogue metahuman from killing General Eiling, but there was no way he’d be able to protect her from the government now.  Iron Heights was equipped for meta-criminals, but he and Lisa would be hard-pressed to put together a case defending the relocation of a military assassin to a civilian prison. 

“Good work, detective,” Eiling said, and Len let out a sharp, controlled breath at the sound of obvious pleasure in the man’s voice. 

Len turned away from the general just in time to catch a glimpse of bright purple soaring high into the air. 

Then the warehouse ceiling exploded. 

It was a clever move, Len reflected as he dove out of the path of the molten slag.  Surrounded by walls?  Burn down the roof.

Of course, as contingencies went, this one would certainly win an award for lethality.  The fire was spreading across the roof, consuming the flammable insulation and dropping the remains onto the floor below.  There was no clear path of escape, unless Len ran straight through the heart of the fire.  He winced at the thought.  Unless he was able to put the fires out from a distance, he’d be in for it.  The air in the warehouse was already heating up at an alarming rate; his forehead was beginning to sweat. 

Len looked back at where Eiling had been and almost groaned when he saw the general standing calmly at the edge of the debris field.  “Get clear!” Len shouted, firing a bolt of ice into the nearest patch of flames.  The impact blasted the burning debris apart, and Len nodded as the melting ice put out a few of the smaller fires.  “I’m clearing a path.” 

“You sound concerned, detective,” Eiling replied.  “At ease.  Emergency response units are on their way.” 

Len paused and stared at the general.  Even after all this, Eiling appeared calm and in control.  He was making no move to leave.  Was he so sure of capturing Bette san Souci even now?  Or –

A pile of flaming debris tumbled from the top of a warehouse shelf, and as he ducked for cover Len’s brain clicked into overdrive. 

The pre-selected rendezvous point.  The use of a civilian warehouse instead of a safer, more open location.  The lack of any real plan for containing san Souci.  The poor placement of the snipers outside of the building, with eyes everywhere except inside where they mattered.  The military’s interest in metahumans, especially those with abilities that could be weaponized. 

The fact that this civilian warehouse was one of the only large storage facilities located in the middle of the zone monitored by Mick Rory’s volunteer firefighting crew. 

This wasn’t a simple capture mission.  This was a shopping trip – and Len would bet his right hand that he and Bette weren’t the only metahumans on the menu. 

“We are leaving,” he growled, stalking toward the general. 

Eiling’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin.  “We are not.  I’m guessing by the sullen glare on your face that you’ve figured out my ulterior motive?”

Len formed two ice bolts in his hands and didn’t bother replying. 

Eiling smirked.  “I’ll take that as a yes.  As chaotic as this situation may seem, I can guarantee you that everything is under control.” 

“You’re using me as bait,” Len said.  “I bet you let it be known all over the city that I would be coming here with you, as soon as Bette made that phone call.” 

“I suspected that Firestorm would be easier to draw in with you on hand,” Eiling said, casually sidestepping a rain of debris as he talked.  “But I’m most interested in our sergeant’s accomplice.  Imagine what good he could do for our country, a man who can run faster than the speed of sound.”

Len advanced on Eiling, steam rising from the bolt held ready in his palm.  “The Flash is a civilian.  He’s not a military dog, he’s a human being.” 

“He’s an asset,” Eiling countered.  “And you, detective, are out of line.” 

The general reached into his pocket, and a blast rocked the warehouse.  Len turned and saw one of the tall metal shelves explode before falling down, down, down. 

Len backpedaled toward san Souci’s prison, firing his ice bolts at the descending pile of metal.  The shots hit their mark, building up a column of ice that would hopefully prevent him and the sergeant from being crushed. 

“Get down!” he yelled to Bette inside the ice prison, crouching beside it and covering his head and neck with both hands. 

There was a tremendous screeching of metal, a crash, and Len was plunged into darkness. 

Len waited several beats, then cautiously uncurled himself to take stock of his surroundings.  His ice had done its job, preventing the shelf from crushing him and leaving him with a little room to maneuver.  Bette’s prison had also held up.  Parts of the wall near Len had crumbled slightly under the weight, but the sergeant was almost certainly alive. 

They were alright, for now.  There were several gaps in Len’s prison, not large enough for him to escape but large enough for air and visibility.  He could see the warehouse exit out of the nearest hole.  It had been occupied by several armed soldiers, presumably to trap Mick or anyone else who came to help them. 

Thick-soled military boots suddenly blocked Len’s line of sight just before Eiling’s face appeared in the gap.  “I apologize for that, detective, but it was necessary.” 

“Like hell it was,” Len spat. 

“You’re in no danger,” Eiling continued as if he hadn’t heard.  “Emergency personnel are on their way, including your metahuman friend.  Once this is wrapped up, you’ll be given medical attention and sent on your way.” 

Len gritted his teeth.  _Medical attention_ from Eiling’s men would likely involve lots of probes, needles, and invasive tests.  They knew they couldn’t keep him, not without inviting hell to their doorstep in the form of his friends and the press.  Apparently the opportunity to study him had proven too promising to pass up. 

Unfortunately, he’d probably need medical attention before all was said and done.  The heat in the confined space was building up rapidly.  Len was already starting to sweat.  The temperature would have been bearable for a normal human, but for him the situation was rapidly approaching dangerous. 

Len moved his arm experimentally, testing it for damage and range of motion.  He needed to conserve his powers as much as possible, but there was one thing he needed to do first. 

“So this was your plan all along,” he said.  “Get us all in one place, sabotage the rendezvous, and see what other metahumans you could pick up in the fallout.” 

“That was the goal, yes,” Eiling said. 

“Can you _enlighten_ me as to the legality of this little operation?” 

“All perfectly above board, detective.  Sergeant san Souci is a wanted domestic terrorist; I didn’t believe she would give herself without some resistance.  And your friend could also be considered government property.  The research project that created him was paid for with military funding.” 

Len raised an eyebrow.  _Research project?_ Mick had been an EMT; he wasn’t involved in any research that Len knew of, especially research run by the military.  “And the Flash?”

“If he’s aiding a fugitive from justice, he’s an enemy of the state,” Eiling said firmly.  “And as a recruitment opportunity, he’s simply too good to pass up.” 

“That’s a pretty cold outlook you’ve got there, general,” Len said, ice forming in his palm.  “But you won’t be recruiting anyone today.” 

The ice bolt slammed into Eiling’s boots, freezing the soles to the ground and covering the leather uppers to the ankle.  “What is this?” the general barked. 

Len smirked.  “Turnabout is fair play, general.  I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.  If you’re wise, you’ll order your men to stand down and let emergency response crews proceed without harassment.” 

“You realize I can have you arrested for this,” Eiling growled.  “You are interfering with a military operation.” 

“An operation that you sabotaged yourself,” Len countered.  A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. 

“You assaulted a general in the United States military.” 

“See those boots you’re wearing?”  Len nodded to the general’s frozen footwear.  “Polyurethane outsoles, leather construction.  No mesh or ventilation anywhere.  You may have cold feet, but you won’t be getting frostbite.  And ice _melts._   Does metal shelving?” 

Eiling’s eyes narrowed.  “I can still bring you up on charges.  It’s my word against yours.” 

“I’ll take that bet, _general,_ ” Len drawled.  “I have several friends in the CSI division who would be _quite_ interested in checking this shelving for bomb residue.” 

Eiling stared at him in disgust before removing his walkie-talkie from its case.  “Alright, Snart.  You get your way.  But you’ll answer for this.” 

Good.  Len would be counting on it. 

When he heard Eiling give the stand down order, Len sagged to the concrete floor in relief.  Mick was as safe as he could make him.  The Flash would have a fighting chance too, if the metahuman showed up.  Now he just had to hang on until the rescue crew arrived. 

Len took a calculated risk and shot an ice bolt into the gap where Eiling was frozen to the ground.  He didn’t think the general would try to shoot him or otherwise retaliate, but the less he saw of Len’s heat-induced weakness, the better.  He also spread a layer of ice over the top of his prison.  The meltwater would help to keep him cool, for a little while. 

Len inspected the supports of his prison and frowned.  The ice was thinning, especially around san Souci’s prison, but it looked like it would hold.  Good thing too; Len didn’t think he had another shot in him, not for a while. 

He wriggled partway out of his shirt and lay there unmoving, trying to regulate his breathing.  There wasn’t much smoke, but the heat was starting to make him dizzy.  Hyperventilating wouldn’t help. 

The disorientation was the worst of it, he decided.  He needed to think, to plan.  Instead he was fighting for consciousness. 

At least the meltwater was doing its job.  Each drop felt like a brief jolt of cold as it landed on his face and chest.  For a while Len tried marking the intervals between them, but gave up when he kept losing count. 

A bead of sweat rolled into his eye, where it stung and burned.  Len blinked it out.  At least he was still sweating – he hadn’t veered into heatstroke territory, not yet. 

After an indeterminate period, Len dimly registered the sensation of hands on him.  He was being lifted, carried. 

The winter air outside the warehouse hit Len’s system like a shock.  He gasped, and noted faintly that he was shivering. 

“Quit staring and make yourself useful, Speedy,” said Mick’s voice above him.  Len sagged in relief.  “He’s gonna go into shock.” 

“Shit,” said a strange, buzzing voice.  “What do you need?” 

“Ice, plastic bags, blankets,” Mick rattled off.  “His core temperature has gotta come down.  If he gets heatstroke, it ain’t gonna be pretty.” 

There was a whoosh of cold air, and Mick sighed.  Len felt something cold slip under his arm.  “What’s that?” he groaned. 

“Thermometer,” Mick rumbled.  Businesslike hands shucked him out of his shirt, and Len let out a faint noise of protest as he was laid on the bare cement.  It was so _cold._

Mick tugged the thermometer loose and swore.  “You really did it this time, buddy,” he sighed.  “Gonna have to wrap you in ice and blankets like the world’s coldest burrito.” 

Len glared up at him, but the gruff EMT looked entirely unaffected.  “Can you hang tight?” Mick said.  “Gotta fish General Asshat out of your trap.” 

“What about san Souci?” Len asked. 

“Long gone.”  Mick didn’t elaborate, and for once Len couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Go help,” he said, looking up at his best friend.  “Get those fires like we practiced.  I’ll _cool_ my heels here.” 

Mick rolled his eyes.  “Only you, Snart,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared in the direction of the warehouse. 

Len closed his eyes and took a deep breath of winter air, grimacing briefly at the chilly gust that blew over his torso.  The fact that he was noticing the cold meant that he’d been dangerously close to heatstroke.  His mock fights with Mick had prepared him to deal with fires, but he hadn’t been trapped in a hot, confined space for so long since he’d gotten his powers.  Mick’s timing and first aid had probably saved him another trip to the hospital. 

Maybe he would buy his friend a new lighter.  Just for the sentimental value. 

After roughly ten minutes, the crunch of boots on gravel alerted Len to Mick’s return.  “Fires are out, Snart.  Now where – what’re you doing up there, Red?” 

“Keeping an eye on things,” said the buzzing voice from before.  Len turned his head but couldn’t make out the speaker.  “Supplies are by the fire truck, but I wanted to make sure he didn’t start seizing.” 

“How would you have helped him from up there?”

“I would have come down, obviously.  Do you think he’s gonna be okay?” 

“He made a cold pun before I left to take care of the fires, so I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery.”

Len opened his eyes and felt the beginnings of a smirk forming on his lips.  “Cool it, Mick.  Your friend is just trying to help.” 

“Trying to get underfoot is more like it,” said Mick with a snort.  “He’s been hovering around the scene ever since I got you out.  Tried telling him you just needed your beauty sleep, but Little Red was having none of that.” 

Len raised an eyebrow.  _Little Red_ was an odd nickname even by Mick’s standards.  He lifted his head and looked more intently for the other speaker. 

And wouldn’t you know it – there was the Flash, perched on top of a cinderblock wall as if he hadn’t a care in the world.  Len raised a hand in greeting.  “Flash.” 

The Flash dipped his head in a jerky approximation of a nod.  “Detective.” 

“So you showed.  Did you come for san Souci?” 

There was a brief hesitation.  “I did,” the Flash replied with that odd, buzzing undertone to his voice.  “But I wanted to make sure the general hadn’t done any lasting damage to you.” 

 _Wasn’t that interesting._   “Didn’t get the impression that you cared about my health the last time we met,” Len called up to him. 

“That was a misunderstanding,” the speedster replied.  “I grabbed the wrong guy.” 

“So you were there playing vigilante,” Len said, slotting the information into place with what little else he and Lisa had learned about the red-suited metahuman. 

“Don’t give me too much credit,” the Flash said with a chuckle.  “I was still gonna steal some of their food.  But the pending assault charges were an accident.” 

Len raised an eyebrow.  “Doesn’t mean they aren’t still pending.  And you helped Bette san Souci escape custody.” 

“You knew what they were planning to do with her,” the Flash countered.  “I got the impression that you disapproved.” 

“I disapprove of their methods, but san Souci needs to be in custody,” Len said.  “I myself got the impression that you and the sergeant weren’t working together.” 

The Flash’s shoulders sagged.  “We’re not,” he said quietly.  “She could have killed everyone in that warehouse tonight.  Maybe she would have.  I knew she was in trouble with the government, afraid of being captured, and I thought I could help.  But it looks like I made another bad call.”

“Seems to be a pattern with you, kid,” Len said, and nearly chuckled when the Flash jerked his head up sharply.  “Instead of running in blind, try making some better calls next time.” 

The speedster stared at him for several long seconds.  “I will,” he finally said.  “Feel better, detective.” 

In the blink of an eye he was gone, trailing gold lightning into the gathering darkness. 

“So he’s the meta who attacked you last Friday,” Mick said thoughtfully, staring after the dissipating trail of electricity.  “Fast one.  Weird costume, but you were bound to run into one of the stranger types sooner or later.  Gotta admit, Snart, I’m surprised you let him leave.” 

“Could hardly go after him in this state,” Len sighed, gesturing to his own prone, shirtless form on the concrete.  “He didn’t hurt anyone tonight,” he added after a brief pause.  “I can go after him another day and still sleep easy.” 

“Sleep easy,” Mick chuckled.  “There’s a good one.”  He held out a hand to Len, who hoisted himself carefully to his feet. 

They set off for the fire truck, with Mick heavily supporting Len’s weight.  No point in being proud and trying to walk when he’d been almost unconscious several minutes before, Len decided.  He rebounded quickly, but not even he was that tough. 

What a night.  Collapsing warehouses, heat exhaustion, and he still hadn’t managed to bring in san Souci.  Although that reminded him – “Mick, did Eiling make it out?” 

“The general?  He’s fine,” Mick said, looking mildly disappointed.  “Some smoke inhalation, but nothing too bad.” 

“Will he be able to make it to the debriefing at the CCPD tomorrow?” 

Mick smiled like a shark.  “I’ll see to it that he’s there.” 

“Good,” Len said.  Lisa would be out for blood tomorrow – and if Eiling was there to distract her from grilling Len about his injuries, so much the better. 


	8. The Company You Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again, with another long chapter. It's been a while, but we're finally rounding out the Episode 5-related chapters with this one. 
> 
> As always, many thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter. Reviewers, you all mean the world to me; reading your thoughts and feelings motivates me more than words can say. This fic hit the 400-kudo mark on Chapter 7, which was delightful. This is my first time posting a multi-chaptered fic on AO3, so I'm glad this one has been well-received. :)

* * *

A newspaper landed on Barry’s keyboard and he jumped nearly a foot in the air.  “Holy – Lisa?” he gasped, once he turned and caught sight of his aggressor. 

For a split second his boss looked guilty, but then her eyes narrowed in a murderous rage that Barry prayed wasn’t about to be directed at him.  “Read it,” she said venomously. 

Barry picked up the newspaper, which showed a picture of the burning Stagg Industries warehouse beneath the words _Military Bungles Capture of Dangerous Meta-Terrorist._ He swallowed.  “Did they mention your brother in this?” 

“Not by name,” Lisa said.  “Lenny’s glad, says he wants to be left out of it.  But if the press won’t report on him being there, how are we going to get Eiling?” 

“Get him for what?  Bungling the capture?” Barry said, staring at Lisa in confusion. 

“For trying to put my brother on ice!” Lisa snarled, then grimaced.  “Dammit, I made a cold pun.  He was making them nonstop when Mick brought him home, I think he was trying to distract me and now he’s even got me doing it-”

“Whoa whoa, hold on!” Barry said as his brain caught up with what Lisa had said.  “Are you saying that Eiling tried to have Leonard _hurt on purpose?”_

Lisa’s lips twitched.  “Oh honey.  You called him _Leonard.”_

“I – wait, shit, you’re right.” Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  “That kind of slipped out?  Is that bad?”

“No, it’s just funny,” said Lisa.  “Nobody calls him Leonard.”

“Well I’m hardly going to call him _Lenny,_ you’re the only one who calls him that!  I’m not his sister,” Barry said, affronted. 

“I know, I’m just surprised – ugh, I’m getting distracted again,” Lisa grumbled.  “That’s not the point.  The _point_ is that this colossal bag of dicks thought he could drop a warehouse on Lenny, and he’s going to _get away with it!_ He’s got red tape strung around the entire place – none of CCPD’s people have been able to get in and examine the crime scene, and believe me, I’ve tried. _”_

Barry remembered the carnage of the collapsed warehouse, the jolt of fear that had slammed into the pit of his stomach when he’d arrived looking for Bette and had seen Snart’s semiconscious form being carried out of the building.  _Not if I can help it,_ he thought grimly.  “Have you tried the local channels?” Barry asked.  “The national networks might not want to run a story like this, but a place like CCPN might be more helpful.” 

“I don’t want him in the papers, I want his ass in jail,” Lisa said, stalking over to the window.  “He is _out there,_ planning god-knows-what, and with the political climate the way it is in Central, there’s only so much I can do about it!  They won’t take him to court over metahuman rights – metas have a bad rep, even with the ones like Mick and Lenny who do a lot of good for the city.  So instead of getting thrown in a cell, he’s just going to get a slap on the wrist.” 

“And then he can keep putting people in danger,” Barry said, frowning.  “Including your brother.”  He’d have to talk to STAR Labs, see if Dr. Wells and Cisco could dig up anything incriminating.  It had been a while since Eiling and Dr. Wells had worked together, but his mentor’s distaste for the man seemed to have lingered long enough that Barry might be able to trick or persuade him into giving away some useful information.  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” 

“Short of helping me hide a body, I think I’ll have to pass this time,” Lisa said wistfully.  “But I’ll let you know if something comes up.  In the meantime, want to grab lunch with Lenny and me?” 

“Wha- sure!” Barry said, both pleased and startled by the invitation.  Apparently Lisa hadn’t been kidding when she mentioned them all eating together.  “What brought this on?” 

“I want out of this damn office,” Lisa said, sweeping toward the door.  Barry grabbed his coat and followed.  “If I see one solitary thread of camouflage, I will not be held responsible for my actions.” 

Barry grinned as he jogged down the stairs.  It seemed he and Lisa were in agreement here. 

Snart was already standing in the lobby, talking to Joe.  He nodded to Barry and Lisa when he saw them, with a quick half-smile that Barry was reasonably sure he hadn’t imagined. 

Joe’s look of pleased surprise when he saw Barry standing with Lisa was also more entertaining than Barry had expected, and he couldn’t quite help the grin that flashed across his face.  He’d forgotten how nice it was to have Joe seem happy to see him. 

“Excuse me for a second,” he said to Snart, still looking at Barry, and some of his mirth quickly morphed into apprehension.  Lisa seized the opportunity to talk to her brother, leaving Barry on his own to deal with Joe’s approach. 

“What’s up?” he said nervously when the detective stopped in front of him.  “Do you need me to run some files?” 

“No,” Joe said quickly.  “I just wanted to… make sure you’re doing okay.” 

The quippy rejoinders that Barry had been preparing tumbled out of his mind.  This was – unexpected.  “Um, yeah, Joe.  I’m fine.  Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Seems like you’ve had a busy few days is all,” Joe said.  “Iris says you two haven’t been talking.” 

His gaze was assessing, and Barry held back a shiver.  The last thing he needed was an overprotective cop prying into his disagreement with Iris, whether the cop was her father or not.  “…Did she say why we weren’t talking?” he said lightly, stalling for time.  

Joe frowned.  “She said it was between you,” he replied, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  “Talk to her.  I don’t like seeing her out of sorts.” 

Barry doubted that Joe would be so supportive of him and Iris making up if he knew why they were fighting in the first place, but he was hardly going to say so.  Instead he nodded, flashing Joe a quick smile before slipping away to rejoin Lisa and her brother. 

“I’ve been thinking we could go to the sandwich shop near the station,” Lisa said to Barry.  “It’s a staple.  You’ve had their food before, but the place itself has good ambiance.” 

“And a good name,” Snart said with a smirk that would have been nice to observe in slow-motion. 

“You would patronize it for the puns alone,” Lisa sighed as they headed for the door, rolling her eyes but still looking happier than she had all morning. 

“With a name like ‘Daily Bread,’ I could hardly do otherwise.” 

Barry choked on a laugh, and Snart looked faintly pleased with himself. 

The air outside the precinct was chilly, and the wind blowing between the tall buildings cut through the front of Barry’s sweater like a collection of icy knives.  He grimaced and pulled his coat more tightly around himself before shoving his hands deep into his pockets.  The cold had never been his favorite, but since developing his powers Barry tended to run several degrees hotter than the average human.  This winter was shaping up to be a particularly bitter one for him. 

Detective Snart, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the weather at all.  He wasn’t even wearing a coat, Barry realized as he snuck a glance at him over Lisa’s head.  Snart was wearing a blue dress shirt and slacks, both of which fit nicely – had he gotten them tailored or was he just that lucky?  Snart had the shoulders and arms to go with his height, so it probably wasn’t too hard for him to find clothes that fit. 

Barry abruptly remembered the scene at Stagg’s warehouse last night – that EMT shucking Snart out of his clothes and leaving him half-naked on the concrete – and blushed.  Oh god.  Snart had been shirtless and they’d had an _entire conversation._

Not that Snart knew it was him.  But that was for the best, or he and Lisa would be on the lookout for suspicious behavior – and they would definitely notice Barry’s brief and disproportionate reaction to Snart today, when he was wearing a dress shirt and nothing else.  Except for pants.  Fuck. 

Barry restlessly flexed his fingers inside of his pockets.  He could deal with this.  So his coworker was attractive.  He noticed these things – it wasn’t like the particle accelerator explosion had made him go blind. 

When they stepped through the door of Daily Bread, the smell of sandwiches provided the perfect distraction as it washed over Barry in a warm, fragrant wall of bliss.  He’d been hungry before, but now he was famished.  He appraised the menu thoughtfully – he wouldn’t be able to get away with eating three sandwiches, not in his current company, so he’d have to settle for the most calorie-dense option he could find. 

Lucky for him, Daily Bread seemed to be one of those places that made money by skirting the edge of the health food craze.  All of their sandwich options had calorie counts listed on the board – add some extra condiments and he could easily push those numbers up.

He let Snart and Lisa order before him while he ran the math in his head, then stepped up to the counter.  “I’d like the Italian club with extra pickles, green peppers, avocado, bacon, mayo, and chipotle sauce,” he said with a grin. 

The girl at the cash register stared at him for a beat before inputting his order into the computer.  “And do you want the six-inch?” 

Barry pretended to think about it, having entirely too much fun.  “Go ahead and make it the foot.  I might as well.” 

Barry paid for his sandwich and joined Snart and Lisa in the pickup line.  “I eat a lot,” he explained in an effort to break the silence.  “I have a – _high_ metabolism.” Internally, Barry winced; he’d barely managed to substitute _high_ for the word _fast._ It was the sort of wordplay that would have entertained Cisco, but had no place around his coworkers, Snart especially. 

He really needed to cut down on the speed-related jokes while he was at work – now _that_ would be a humiliating way to blow his cover. 

Barry managed to beat Snart to the inside corner seat at a nearby table, where he settled with his back tucked against the wall.  There were a lot of other cops here, he noted as he did a quick sweep of the interior.  A couple of men in uniform, probably older than Joe, were sitting near the window eating sandwiches, and when the door swung open again, there was –

There was Eddie Thawne, of all people, with Iris following just behind. 

Barry immediately looked away from the door before she could feel his eyes on her.  What was Iris doing here?  Had Snart or Lisa let it slip where they’d been planning to eat lunch?  Was Eddie in on it too, trying to get them to make up? 

He glanced across the table at Lisa and was able to quash the majority of his paranoia when he noticed the slightly startled rise of her eyebrows.  So she hadn’t known Iris would be coming.  Snart looked as coolly impassive as ever, but he seemed faintly curious – and Barry didn’t think that planning something this underhanded and strategic was something that Eddie was capable of. 

So it really was just a coincidence.  Now that he was over his initial surprise, Barry could even admit to himself that it was probably a good coincidence.  Avoiding Iris had been awkward, especially when Barry worked with her dad and her boyfriend.  He doubted that she’d seen the light about the dangers of metahuman blogging, but maybe she would listen to Snart.  If Barry could just get the other metahuman to talk about Eiling over lunch…

It would be a bit dicey, but Barry decided the payoff would be worth the gamble.  “Hey Iris!” he called across the restaurant. 

She turned to face him, her expression brightening.  “Hey Barry!  I didn’t see you over there.  Have you ever been here before?” 

“Nope, first time,” Barry replied, feeling a bit self-conscious about speaking so loudly in a room full of people.  “The Snarts suggested I come with them.” 

“The Sn- oh my god,” Iris said, her eyes widening when she noticed Lisa and her brother sitting there.  “I didn’t know you all were friends!  This is great.  Would you mind if we pulled up a couple of seats and joined you guys?” 

Snart sent a brief look in Barry’s direction, his pale blue eyes assessing, and Barry gave a tiny nod.  “Sounds like fun,” Snart said to them. 

Barry watched Iris and Eddie order their food.  “You know,” he said to Lisa as something occurred to him, “this is kind of nice.  It’s been a while since I was the fifth wheel for a lunch date.” 

Lisa looked amused.  “Trust me, I know the feeling.” 

Snart shot her a _look_ and she fell silent, but continued watching Iris and Eddie pulling a table over with a pleased expression on her face. 

A brief silence fell as they all unwrapped their sandwiches and began eating.  Barry took a large bite of his and raised his eyebrows in surprise – it wasn’t as strange-tasting as he’d expected.  The bacon and the avocado paired well with the chipotle, and aside from the slightly jarring mayo-pickles combo, it almost tasted like he was eating two separate sandwiches at once. 

He couldn’t grin with his mouth full, so he settled for flashing Snart and Lisa a quick thumbs-up.  This place had definitely earned a revisit. 

He swallowed his bite of sandwich and turned to Iris and Eddie – given the situation, it would make sense for him to extend the olive branch.  “So what’s been happening with you guys?” 

“Not much,” said Eddie, taking up the thread of the conversation with a pleased smile.  “It’s been quiet around the station, so Iris and I have been going out a lot.  We walked by a few of the new south side apartments last night after dinner.  Mostly for fun,” he said, a bit too quickly.  Barry noticed a tiny, nervous microexpression tug at the corners of Eddie’s mouth and grinned inwardly – it wouldn’t surprise him at all if Iris wound up getting a key from her boyfriend at Christmas this year. 

“That’s great!” Barry said, smiling more brightly than he’d originally intended because wow – Iris and Eddie moving in together?  That was _huge._ “It has been pretty quiet around the station, though,” he added, steering back to the topic at hand.  “Not many cases for me to look at.  I bet having the military in town is pushing the small-time criminals to lay low for a while.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lisa tense slightly at the mention of the military and felt a twinge of guilt.  He was ruining a perfectly good lunch with serious conversation, something that should be considered criminal in its own right.  At least Snart didn’t seem perturbed by his mention of the military – although, upon a further quick inspection, the man was definitely listening closely. 

“That’s a good point,” Eddie said, seemingly oblivious to the intense focus coming from the Snarts’ end of the table.  “What do you think, Iris?  You were interested in the san Souci case.” 

Eddie Thawne had no poker face, Barry decided.  His attempts at getting Barry and Iris to talk to each other were so transparent that Barry couldn’t help but smile.  He shot his best friend an amused glance, and almost sighed in relief when she reciprocated it.  Good – she wasn’t still mad at him, not for the time being at least.  He had room to maneuver. 

“I do find her case interesting, yeah,” Iris said slowly.  “But I’m more interested in metahumans who deserve good press.  Like Detective Snart, and the Flash – sometimes,” she added with a quick glance at Barry. 

Snart shifted slightly in his seat.  “The Flash is an unusual case.”    

Barry gripped the seat of his chair and fought the impulse to run to the bathroom, because he needed Snart to be involved in this conversation but had absolutely zero desire to learn about how much Snart disliked his alter ego.  “So you’ve seen him before?” Barry offered weakly. 

“I have.  Showed up last night, actually,” Snart said, and Barry relaxed a bit.  This was better – the conversation was turning toward the military where he needed it, and hopefully away from him.  “Good that he didn’t come sooner.” 

“Would he have interfered with the capture?” Eddie said, frowning. 

Lisa slammed a fist on the table.  “He’d have _been_ captured.” 

Barry’s hands stilled, and he felt a wave of paralyzing cold sweep through his chest.  _Captured?_ He’d been expected?  Had someone in the military connected Bette back to him – or worse, had they connected her to STAR Labs?

He gave into the adrenaline and allowed time to dilate around him, taking deep breaths until he’d recovered enough to drop back into the conversation.  He could get to the bottom of this.  He’d learn the truth, and then everything would be fine. 

“…setup?” Eddie was saying when Barry tuned back in.  “They were going to capture more metahumans?” 

“That was the plan,” Snart said. 

Barry glanced over at Iris and drew in a sharp breath – she looked _pissed._ “And he’s just going to get away with this?” 

“Mostly,” Lisa said.  “It’ll be tough to touch him.  Barry mentioned something about going to local news channels, getting them on the scent.” 

“Yeah,” Iris said, her frown turning pensive.  “That could be something.  Detective, did he ask you to come along because he was targeting you specifically?” 

“No,” said Snart.  “Eiling didn’t want the fallout that would have come from targeting me directly.  He was more interested in taking Mick and the Flash than me.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  Wasn’t that interesting.  Not that it really surprised him all that much, it was a reasonable argument, but – “Wait, who’s Mick?”

“My best friend,” Snart said, his mouth turning up at the corners for a brief instant.  Barry’s fingers twitched. 

“Really?” he said, hiding his hand under the table as he stomped down the unexpected flare of envy.  “And he can – catch things on fire?” 

“Can put them out, too, depending on the day,” Snart said.  “Eiling was most interested in him, wanted to use me as bait.  Seemed to me like he had some bad intel, though.  Acted like Mick had been part of some government research program.  Like he owned him.” 

“And he’s never worked with the military before?” Barry probed. 

“He’d have told me,” Snart said dismissively.  “This project sounded important.  Maybe some sort of weapons development.  Eiling called it Firestorm.” 

Barry’s heart stopped beating, then began to race.  F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M – or, as it was technically called, Fusion, Ignition, Research Experiment and Science of Transmutation Originating RNA and Molecular Structures.  Martin had started working on it during his tenure at Hudson University, and Barry had teased him relentlessly about coming up with such a convoluted name for the sake of having a cool acronym. 

It had been his foster father’s favorite project, and Barry had assumed that it had died with him. 

But the military didn’t think so.  The military was interested in F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M, and they were interested in metahumans.  They knew something that Barry didn’t. 

And if the project was still up and running, then maybe – just maybe – there was a chance that, somewhere out there, his faster dad was still alive. 

* * *

“So you’re telling me that Martin Stein, renowned expert in theoretical astrophysics and _fusion technology,_ has been missing for nine months and nobody’s seen him?” Cisco said skeptically.  “I don’t want to burst your bubble, dude, but that seems like a long shot.” 

Barry frowned.  “But it’s not impossible.  Missing persons cases are notorious for being difficult to solve.  People can disappear into thin air even in the city, on a _calm_ day.  After the particle accelerator explosion, things must have been chaos.” 

“You’re not wrong,” said Caitlin.  “I wasn’t paying much attention because of Ronnie, but the news footage of downtown – there were people running, fires everywhere.  It looked like a war zone.” 

She fell silent, eyes staring at nothing, and Cisco’s shoulders drooped slightly.  “Guys, I’m sorry,” Barry said awkwardly.  “I didn’t mean to bring it up like that.  I just meant – is it possible that one man, no matter how famous, could have slipped through the cracks?” 

“It’s possible,” said Dr. Wells.  “Professor Stein was greatly admired by the scientific community, but he was hardly a celebrity.  Your average citizen of Central City wouldn’t recognize him if they saw him in the street.  They probably wouldn’t even know his name.” 

Barry bristled.  “Unlike you.” 

Dr. Wells nodded, his expression settling into an unreadable smile.  “Yes, Mr. Allen,” he said quietly.  “Unlike me.” 

He steered away from the group, heading back in the direction of the central desk.  Barry glanced at Cisco and Caitlin, the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably.  “That wasn’t what I meant.” 

“Let’s return to the matter at hand,” Dr. Wells said dismissively.  “Our number-one priority needs to be locating Bette san Souci.” 

Barry’s eyes widened – in the excitement of learning about his foster father, he’d completely forgotten about Bette.  “I don’t know where she is,” he said.  “I got her out of the fire, but by the time I was done checking on the injured, she’d run off.  It’s not like we can catch her now, though – if the CCPD brings her in, she’ll be handed straight over to the military.” 

“Then our next step should be ensuring her departure.  It’s possible that she will return to Cameron Scott’s house in Anglewood, however briefly,” Dr. Wells said.  “With the military and the CCPD on the lookout for her, she’ll likely want to leave town.  Stocking up on supplies at a safe location would be a logical point of departure.” 

“That makes sense,” said Barry, thinking hard.  “It would probably be for the best if she got well away from here.  Has there been any sign of her on the traffic cameras?” 

“Way ahead of you,” Cisco said, leaving Caitlin’s side and crossing over to one of the large monitors.  “I patched us into the city network after I saw the news last night, but there hasn’t been any sign of her.  Wherever she is, she’s good at staying out of sight.” 

“There are plenty of back alleys and less-frequented roads in Central,” Barry said, thinking of the many times in his high school years that he’d needed to use them.  “There aren’t as many in Anglewood – it’s an older part of town, so it’s more centralized.  If she’s headed down there, she’ll need to do most of her traveling when there are a lot of people on the street and she’s not as noticeable.” 

Cisco snapped his fingers.  “The evening rush hour.  Lots of local residents walk to and from work.” 

“So it’s a stakeout?” Caitlin said, looking excited by the prospect. 

Barry frowned as the beginnings of an idea began trickling through his mind.  “We could do that,” he said slowly.  “Or I could just go.  I have to go by Scott’s house tonight anyway – I owe him a window.” 

Cisco bit his lip to hide a smile, but Dr. Wells didn’t look amused.  “That’s fine, Barry, but I want to make sure that we’re all in agreement.  Do you believe that Bette san Souci cannot be trusted?” 

Barry looked at the floor.  “I agree that she’s unreliable.  I don’t think she’d turn her back on us or betray us, or anything like that.  But that’s twice she’s prioritized her safety over the lives of others.  She could still be an ally in the future, but she’s not a good fit for this team.” 

“It’s good that you think so,” Dr. Wells said.  “Caitlin, Cisco, and I had discussed the sergeant before you arrived, but we agreed that your input would be needed.  We’re your team, and we’re behind you.” 

Barry swallowed around the lump in his throat.  “Thanks, guys.  You’ve all done so much for me.  Maybe one day things will work out differently with Bette, but for now I’m lucky to have you.” 

They were good people, he thought fondly as Caitlin straightened her shoulders and Cisco’s lips turned up in an irrepressible grin.  Better than he deserved.  But that was something he could work on. 

Dr. Wells looked at Barry over the rims of his glasses.  “Your continued optimism about san Souci does you credit, Mr. Allen,” he said.  “But she is a criminal, and you have a reputation to maintain.  I suggest you be careful.” 

“I will,” said Barry, his smile fading slightly.  “Cisco, can I talk to you for a second?  It’s about the suit.” 

As Cisco followed him into a side office, Barry couldn’t help but reflect on Dr. Wells’ odd choice of phrasing.  Barry had always taken great pains to keep the less savory aspects of his life under wraps – his foster parents would have been disappointed in him, for starters, and he hadn’t been about to let a bit of moonlighting affect his chances of getting into college and having a successful career.  He’d been skirting the edges of the law for years, and his record was still spotless – hell, he worked as a CSI.  Nobody, not even Iris and his team, knew how much Barry enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the rush of getting away with something dangerous. 

So why had Dr. Wells sounded like he’d guessed something? 

Barry turned to face Cisco, tamping down his suspicions – which, as unlikely and unfounded as they were, could still be all too difficult to dismiss.  But now was the time to focus on the matter at hand.  “Cisco, there’s a tracker in my suit, right?” 

“Yeah, it was part of the original design,” Cisco said.  “Why, do you want me to take it out?” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “No, the one in the suit is fine, don’t worry about it.  But I wanted to know – could you make another one?  And would it be possible to integrate some sort of user-controlled activation?” 

“I think so,” Cisco said, frowning thoughtfully.  “Are you going where I think you’re going with this?” 

“I don’t think we should just leave Bette out there on her own,” Barry said in a rush.  “If the military goes after her again, I want her to be able to let us know that she needs help.” 

Cisco grinned.  “I knew you weren’t gonna blow her off.  I’m guessing you’ll want to give it to her tonight?” 

“Assuming she does show up at Cameron Scott’s place, that would probably be best.” 

“I’ll get on it,” Cisco said.  “It shouldn’t take me more than a couple hours to modify the design I used for the suit.”

Barry smiled.  “You’re the best, Cisco.  And – I know this is gonna sound weird, but can we not tell Dr. Wells about this for now?”

Cisco hesitated.  “Are you sure we should be keeping this a secret?  Dr. Wells has some good points as to why we shouldn’t trust her.  Locking him out of the loop seems like a bad idea.”    

Barry pinched his lips together, thinking.  “That’s just it, though.  Aside from making sure she leaves the city, Dr. Wells seems dead-set against us having anything to do with her.  Keeping this a secret might be rough, but I don’t want to make him mad.” 

“Okay, you have a point,” Cisco said.  “We’ll let Caitlin know, but we won’t tell Dr. Wells right away.  Not unless something new comes up.” 

* * *

In the end, stealing a window had proven impossible.   Barry had ended shelling out eighty dollars for the most inexpensive four-paned window he could find at the nearest home improvement store.  He’d briefly debated asking Dr. Wells to reimburse him, but ultimately had decided against it.  He’d have had an awfully hard time explaining to his bank why he was cashing an eighty-dollar check from STAR Labs. 

Running the window over to Anglewood was a far more hellish proposition.  The box wasn’t heavy, at least not unreasonably so, but it was hard to hold onto.  He kept having to stop and re-adjust his grip – otherwise, he risked dropping the thing and starting the whole damn mess over again. 

Actually installing the window wasn’t hard at all, thanks to the tools and helpful manual he’d swiped on a quick second trip through the store.  Those he could return afterward, so no harm done. 

He’d think twice before busting through another window like this, though, he decided as he finished placing the last of the screws.  There had to be a better way of getting into and out of buildings – because undoing this kind of damage was a real pain in the ass. 

He stepped back and admired his handiwork, feeling pleased with himself, until a clatter from the nearby alley made him bolt for cover on the roof.    

Barry peered cautiously over the side of the building, pressing himself flat against the shingles.  His eyes widened – Cisco’s uncanny predictive power struck again, because there was Bette san Souci.  She looked a little bit worse for wear, jacket ripped in several places, and she was headed straight for Cameron Scott’s front door. 

“Bette!” Barry stage-whispered to her.  “Up here!”

She jumped, then looked perplexed when she spotted him lying on the roof.  “Flash?  What are you doing here?” 

“I came to check on you.  And fix the window I broke,” Barry finished with an apologetic grimace.  “What about you?” 

“I’m leaving Central City,” Bette said, looking away from him.  “I’m not safe here, and your friends will be in danger if you associate with me.  I don’t think there’s any place for a bomber on a squad full of superheroes.” 

Barry didn’t bother arguing with her – he wasn’t in the mood to contradict her use of the word _superhero,_ and the rest of her statement was uncomfortably close to the truth.  “We all wish you nothing but the best,” he said instead, hating the sound of the empty platitude.  “So Cisco and I made you this.” 

He reached into his belt pocket and pulled out the small locator that Cisco had designed that afternoon.  “This is an emergency signal,” he said.  “If you’re ever in trouble, just activate it and it’ll automatically send your GPS coordinates to STAR Labs.” 

Bette eyed the device warily.  “So this thing could be used to track my location?” 

“Only when you activate it,” Barry said, guiltily omitting mention of the failsafe protocol Caitlin had suggested, which could be remotely activated to find Bette if she was a suspect in any other bombings.  Barry was hopeful that they wouldn’t have to use it, but it never hurt to be cautious.  “Will you take it?” 

Bette hesitated before carefully plucking the locator out of Barry’s palm.  “Thanks,” she said, turning it over in her gloved hands.  “I’m surprised that Dr. Wells approved something like this.” 

“He doesn’t know,” Barry admitted.  “He’s pretty convinced that you can’t be trusted, but we think he’s wrong on this one.” 

“I’m glad,” Bette said.  “He seems like a good man, but he’s not always – diplomatic.”

Barry smiled.  “Now that we can agree on.”

Bette opened her mouth, then closed it again, offering up a tired smile instead of whatever she’d been about to say.  “I suppose this is goodbye,” she said. 

“Not forever,” Barry said impulsively.  “Bette… No matter what you hear from the people around you, you’re still a good person.  Even if we can’t work together, I hope we can stay friends.” 

The lines around Bette’s mouth softened.  “I could say the same to you, Flash.  Take care of yourself – and watch your back.” 

She turned the key in the lock of the front door and stepped inside the house. 

Barry looked at the empty porch for several seconds, feeling strangely hollow, before turning and darting away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to drop a comment if you enjoyed the chapter - I would love to hear your thoughts. :)
> 
> Fun fact: I built Barry's giant sandwich using the online Subway menu customizer, and it has over 1800 calories in it. A decent-sized meal, even for a speedster!


	9. Aiding and Abetting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! It's been a while, but I'm finally happy enough with this chapter that I feel good about posting it. Many thanks to townwithoutheart and WynterTwylight for chatting with me about this one when I was banging my head against the wall. XD
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter! I will be responding to those comments in the morning, when I can give them the attention they deserve.

After the news stations reported that Eiling and his men had left town, many of the officers around the precinct had been able to relax.  No military meant business as usual.  The CCPD had jurisdiction, warehouses weren’t catching on fire, and metahumans weren’t being targeted with impunity. 

Len, on the other hand, was less happy with the situation. 

“I’m just saying, Lisa,” he sighed as he flipped through crime scene photos that were trickling in from an ATM robbery the previous night.  “If there’s a wasp in the room, I’d like to be able to see it.” 

“Stop quoting Narnia just to make me smile,” Lisa said, pursing her lips as she flicked through the witness reports they’d been able to dig up.  “It’s been a week since Eiling left Central, and nothing else has happened.” 

“You’re angry that the press aren’t making any moves.” Len examined one of the security camera stills more closely; the front bumper of a large yellow car was visible in the corner of the frame.  Interesting choice of getaway vehicle. 

“I have officially re-evaluated my opinion of CCPN,” Lisa huffed.  “If they showed half as much interest in investigative journalism as they did in the score of the last Diamonds game, we’d be getting some real hard-hitting stories out of that place.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but at this point I’m considering turning to the blogosphere.” 

Len frowned.  “Lise, sharing any information with them would be libel.” 

“I’m not saying we should tell them about our ongoing investigation, but at times like this it’s better to keep our ears to the ground,” Lisa said.  “There’s a chance that one of them knows something we don’t.  A couple of these blogs I’ve been tracking are pro-metahuman and surprisingly prolific.  There’s one of them – The Flash Lives – that has a lot of content on your man in red.” 

“That nickname makes him sound like some sort of thieving Santa Claus,” Len said. 

Lisa rolled her eyes.  “I’m sure you or Mick will come up with a better one.  But regardless, I’m going to keep checking out those blogs.  At some point I’m bound to run across information we can use, especially since conspiracy theorists love looking at the military in the first place.”

Len’s shoulders relaxed slightly.  “Fine.  Just as long as we don’t go running off half-cocked,” he said. 

Lisa narrowed her eyes.  “You’re going to lecture _me_ about acting when I’m unprepared?  _You?_ ” 

Len sighed internally at his own word choice and braced himself for the scolding.  But her impassioned speech was cut short by the buzzing of Len’s cell phone.  He pulled it out of his pocket and swiped a thumb across the screen without even glancing at the caller ID.  “Hello?”

“Hey, Snart,” said Detective Thawne’s voice.  “Listen – I’m sorry to interrupt your night, but there’s a situation down at the docks that we could use your help with.  Can you get there fast if I give you the address?”

“Detective, I’m still at the station,” Len interrupted.  “I’m in the downstairs lab.” 

There was a pause.  “Oh,” Thawne said.  “We’ll wait for you here, then?” 

The corners of Len’s mouth twitched.  “Be there in a few.” 

“A metahuman attack?” Lisa said wryly as he hung up the phone. 

“Since Detective Thawne seemed willing to risk me showing up at a crime scene in a dressing gown and slippers, I suspect that’s a yes.”  Len started for the door, then paused.  “I’ll keep my eyes open for anything military on the scene.” 

Lisa nodded.  “That’s all I ask.” 

West and Thawne were already waiting in the lobby when Len emerged from the stairwell.  “Let me guess,” he said at the sight of their tense faces.  “Back seat?” 

“Yeah.  Or a bike,” Thawne said.  “Whatever you think will get you there the fastest.” 

“The first responders haven’t secured the scene,” West explained as they started for the front of the building.  “The meta’s barricaded himself in a gas station.  Witnesses described him as having metal skin,” he said with a significant eyebrow raise. 

Len’s jaw tightened.  “So it’s Woodward?” 

Thawne held the door open until Len and West had both passed through before following himself.  “Sounds like it,” he replied.  “We’ve managed to secure what seems to be his getaway car – another yellow SUV, if you can believe it.” 

Len thought back to the security camera stills from earlier, and grimaced.  “I believe it.”  Yellow cars were not common, and the fact that so many of them had been stolen in conjunction with ATM robberies was definitely suspicious. 

He’d have to talk to Lisa about going over those crime scene videos again.    If his hunch was right, Woodward had been much busier than they’d originally believed. 

The air outside the building was refreshingly cool against his skin; it would be a chilly night in the city.  Len split away from the other detectives, who were headed toward the squad cars, and stepped inside the small garage where the motorbikes were issued.  Nobody was manning the desk, which wasn’t surprising; it was hardly biking weather.  Len grabbed a helmet and a set of keys before swinging onto the bike. 

He made a hard right out of the CCPD’s parking lot, plotting his route in his head.  He’d be hard-pressed to arrive at the scene before more damage could be done, but his bike’s smaller size and his knowledge of the city’s back roads would at least give him a faster response time than West and Thawne. 

Traffic on the road was light, and Len was able to make good time.  Possibly too good; it was faint, but over the sound of the engine Len could hear the beginning of an odd whistling sound. 

Len slowed down and listened more intently, but the noise continued to build.  “Hold it together,” he growled at the bike, his hands tightening on the handlebars –

And then a red streak blew past him with such force that the bike wobbled.  _The Flash,_ he thought as he stared at the trail of yellow lightning that the other metahuman left in his wake. 

Len accelerated, and noticed that the odd sound from before was gone.  It hadn’t been the bike at all – it had been the rush of oncoming _air displacement,_ echoing off the surrounding buildings. 

As tempting as it was to set off in pursuit, Len reined in the impulse.  There was no way he’d be able to catch the Flash.  But the metahuman and Tony Woodward had been seen in the same place before.  And with the path the Flash seemed to have been taking, Len was willing to bet that the two of them had the same destination in mind. 

When Len pulled into the gas station parking lot, he frowned at the scene that met his eyes.  There was the getaway car, another yellow Hummer, the back doors open but empty.  The front of the store had been busted in, the glass on the doors broken. 

A police car was parked off to the side of the property, its red and blue lights flashing.  Len approached and saw Carmichael and Mullins behind the driver’s side door.  “Evening, gentlemen.” 

Mullins jumped, and the top of his head slammed into the car’s side window.  “Detective Snart,” he said, rubbing the spot ruefully.  “Are you the only one they sent?” 

“Detective West and Detective Thawne are on their way,” Len said, noting the way Carmichael relaxed.  “What’s happened here?” 

“We didn’t know he was a metahuman at first,” Mullins said, nodding in the direction of the barricaded gas station.  “He didn’t armor up until he saw us come through the door.  We tried to find another way into the building, but then the Flash showed up.” 

Len nodded, his eyes already sweeping their surroundings for any telltale blurs of red and gold.  “And that’s when you took cover?” 

“That’s when we decided to wait for backup,” Carmichael said, with a slightly unpleasant emphasis that Len chose to ignore. 

“Has the Flash made any move to assist Woodward?” he asked instead. 

“Not as far as I’ve seen,” Mullins replied.  “I’ve seen him streak by a few times, circling the outside of the gas station, but he hasn’t tried going inside.” 

So the Flash was casing the scene.  Whether this boded well or not, it was a smart course of action.  It was what Len would have done.  And if the metahuman hadn’t already decided to help Woodward, it was possible that, given the right nudge, he could be persuaded to make another smart call. 

Len stepped away from the squad car and looked up at the roof.  “You out there, Flash?” he called. 

The metahuman appeared on the rooftop in a blur of lightning, positioned for ultimate dramatic effect, and Len smirked.  _Got him._

“What do you want, Detective?” the Flash called down in his oddly distorted voice.  “Or are you here for another heart-to-heart?” 

“Funny,” Len said without smiling.  “I have a proposition for you.  How well do you know Tony Woodward?” 

The Flash jerked sharply.  “Woodward?  I’m here for a guy called Girder – his skin turns into metal, super strong, that kind of stuff.  Is his real name Tony Woodward?” 

“It is,” Len said, frowning both at the odd codename and the Flash’s disproportionate reaction to Tony’s identity.  “Mean anything to you?” 

The Flash shifted.  “I know of him, but I don’t know him,” he said with a frown that was barely visible from Len’s position.  “We’re not friends.” 

Len nodded.  “So everything that happened at the grocery store was a misunderstanding.” 

“Yes, that’s what I said last time we talked,” the Flash said, sounding annoyed. 

“Good,” Len replied.  “Then the way I see it, there are charges on your record that don’t belong.  Like aiding and abetting,” he continued, watching as the Flash fidgeted uncomfortably at the mention.  “I imagine the CCPD would be willing to look at dropping those charges if you assisted in bringing in your ringleader.” 

“He’s not my _ringleader,_ ” the Flash huffed, but he sounded interested.  “And is this even a legal idea in the first place?” 

“There is precedent,” Len said.  “And the assault charges would stay, of course.” 

The Flash grinned.  “Of course.  Okay fine, I’ll bite – but I just need to stop and savor the moment.  Are you actively condoning vigilantism now, Detective?” 

“Are you going to stand on that roof and talk all night, Scarlet?” Len retorted. 

“Wha – back up.”  The Flash stared.  “Did you just call me _Scarlet_?”

“I did,” Len said, a bit surprised that the nickname had slipped out. 

“Are you seriously trying to give me a pet name in the middle of a fight?” 

“Technically we aren’t fighting,” Len said, tilting his head slightly.  “And the Scarlet Speedster is catchy.” 

The Flash stared at him for several beats – and then he _laughed._ The sound came out as a distorted warble that should have been alarming, but instead reminded Len of a weird bird that Lisa had shown him on YouTube.  “Okay, seriously?” the metahuman said, definitely grinning now; Len could see white teeth beneath the mask.  “That’s it then – I have to call you Captain Cold now.” 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  “Call me _what?_ ”

“No going back now, Captain,” the Flash said, firing off what looked like a _salute_ before vanishing from the rooftop. 

Len shook his head slowly.  _What have I gotten myself into?_

There was a screech of tires as West and Thawne pulled into the parking lot.  “What’s the situation?” Thawne asked as he clambered out of the passenger seat. 

“The Flash is clearing himself of charges by turning in his presumed accomplice,” Len said. 

Thawne stared at him.  “Isn’t that an ethics violation?” 

“It falls into the gray area between a plea bargain and a citizen’s arrest,” Len said as he watched the red-and-yellow blur circle the building.  “So technically this is all above board.” 

“While leaving out the fact that this metahuman is a proven aggressor who _attacked you on a rooftop,_ ” Thawne countered.  “I am all for second chances, but aren’t there some extenuating circumstances here?” 

There was a resounding crash; Len turned to see the Flash standing in a pile of masonry and window glass.  “Sorry about the mess!” the speedster called.  “I’ll get it cleared.” 

“This will help.  He seems… motivated,” Len said slowly, turning back to Thawne.  There was another tinkle of breaking glass; Len barely suppressed a wince.  “If a bit destructive.” 

“I’ll say,” said West as he approached.  “Well, Snart, you know the most about him.  As long as he’s not a danger to us, I’m willing to run with it.” 

“Ha! Run with it.”  The Flash appeared in front of them, only a few feet away; Len didn’t jump, but it was a near thing.  The speedster nodded jerkily at West and Thawne, who were slowly removing their hands from their gun holsters.  “Good to see you both.” 

Thawne tilted his head.  “You know who we are?” 

“To an extent,” the Flash said, and there was that quick smile again.  “So – I broke the windows at the back of the store.  With any luck, he’s going to be expecting you to hit him from there, so he’ll be distracted.” 

“So then how will we hit him?” said West, who seemed remarkably calm considering that he was talking to a vibrating man dressed in red leather. 

“We go in the front door!” the Flash said.  “He’s got one of the busted ATMs blocking it off, but you can climb over that if you shoot your way through the glass.” 

Thawne gave Len a _look,_ which he ignored.  “Sounds workable, except for one thing.  Scarlet, stay on the perimeter and _don’t engage._ The CCPD will handle Woodward.”

For a second the Flash looked like he was about to argue, but he seemed to think better of it.  With a brief nod, he zipped off to a safe distance. 

Mullins and Carmichael stepped out from behind the police car and joined them.  “Can we trust this guy to do what he said he would?” Mullins asked.  “He seems like a bit of a loose cannon.” 

“He is,” Len said, frowning.  “But in this case we have leverage, and we’re out of time.  Woodward won’t be thrown by those broken windows for long.” 

They moved toward the building quickly and quietly, and the tension in the air was palpable as they slipped into the gas station.  To Len’s relief, none of the other officers had bothered to draw a gun.  Ricochet was a very real problem to consider when firing at a bulletproof man; they were more likely to shoot each other than do anything to halt a metahuman like Tony Woodward. 

Woodward’s eyes widened at Len’s approach, but he didn’t run.  Instead he went for Mullins, raising a steel-covered arm to swat the man aside. 

Len’s ice bolt impacted with Woodward’s arm just in time to throw off his balance.  Mullins ducked out of his path and shot Len a grateful glance. 

“Give it up, Woodward,” West called.  “You’re surrounded, and resisting arrest will only add to your sentence.” 

“You still think you can take me on?” Woodward said, taking a challenging step toward West. 

West’s hand touched a small, non-standard holster that contained, Len noted with approval, a bright yellow Taser.  “We will shoot you.” 

“Go on and try it, old man,” Woodward chuckled, continuing his approach.  “I dare you.” 

“Shut up,” West snapped, and fired. 

The Taser’s thin wires arced through the air, and the barbs impacted against Tony’s armored skin.  They didn't sink in, but they could still deliver enough electricity in a glancing shot to cause pain, if not incapacitate. 

Woodward shouted as the brief burst of electricity crackled over his metal skin.  He staggered, but didn’t go down.  Instead he broke into a run, fleeing in the direction of the back of the store and its broken windows. 

Len hit his other arm with an ice bolt, but Woodward didn’t stop.  The metahuman turned over shelves as he went, covering the floor in a minefield of debris. 

This gas station was a relatively new construction, Len recalled as he pursued Woodward, an ice bolt in hand to secure the meta’s feet as soon as he got a clear shot.  It was a modular building, erected quickly, and if he made it to that string of broken windows –

Woodward put on a burst of speed and hurled himself straight through the flimsy wall.

“Whoa!  Hold it, Kool-Aid Man,” called the Flash.  Len swore and ran faster; he was not going to have a civilian engaging a dangerous metahuman, no matter how superpowered that civilian might be. 

“Stand down, Flash!” Len called, his stomach sinking at the knowledge that his command would probably be ignored. 

Sure enough, the speedster was already running, circling around Woodward in a tornado of sparks.  Len briefly hesitated; how was he supposed to interfere in a pitched battle without injuring Flash? 

Woodward ended up solving the problem for them.  With a single swat of his ice-covered arm, he sent the speedster flying out of the circle.  Flash hit the ground hard and skidded across the asphalt until he collided with a streetlight.  He moved feebly, but didn’t get up. 

His keeper gone, Woodward fled in the direction of the yellow Hummer.  “Check on Flash!” Len yelled to West and Thawne as he followed in pursuit. 

It was no good.  Woodward had a substantial lead, and managed to make the car just as Len rounded the side of the building. Len pulled his gun and fired several rounds at the tires and back window of the fleeing vehicle, but they didn’t impact deep enough to hinder the Hummer. 

With a sharp sigh, Len holstered his weapon and turned to survey the damage.  Half the windows on the storefront shattered, the interior trashed.  The ATM was still in front of the doors; it hadn’t been removed, but that was about the only positive aspect of the outcome tonight. 

Meanwhile, Detective West was trying to coerce the injured speedster into letting Thawne check his ribs.  The operative word being, of course, _trying._

“I told you, it hurts but it’s nothing to worry about,” Flash said, moving away from the detectives with impossible speed even though he was clearly favoring his right side. 

“We don’t need your name, son,” West said gently, making no further move to approach the injured speedster.  “But there’s a possibility that you could have cracked ribs, possibly internal injuries.  You need to go to a hospital.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Flash said, somehow already clambering to his feet.  “I heal fast and I can take care of it, J – just let me do my thing.” 

“Kid-” Len said, but before he could offer so much as a word of caution, or thanks, the Flash was off like a shot. 

Len watched the trail of sparks vanishing into the city, his lips pressed into a thin line.  “Put out a notice to all the doctors and hospitals in the area,” he said.  “If Red turns up on anyone’s doorstep, I want to know about it.” 

“So you can bring him in?” Thawne asked. 

Len considered the broken windows, the disregard for orders.  But he’d asked for Flash’s help, even if the results had been destructive.  Technically, he hadn’t even done anything wrong – not until Len had dangled the speedster’s file over his head and offered to drop charges in exchange for results. 

And the metahuman had gotten hurt on his watch.  Possibly badly.  Len felt guilt settle in his stomach, heavy as lead. 

“Not this time,” he said.  “But he needs medical attention.  Woodward can hit hard.” 

And if the Flash turned up at their next fight with broken ribs, Len wouldn’t hesitate to give the speedster a piece of his mind.

* * *

As soon as he made it back to the Cortex, Barry heaved himself onto the gurney and waited for the inevitable.  Caitlin and Cisco would be furious that he’d managed to get himself injured, and they’d have it out with him when they got here, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to seek out medical attention.  He’d managed to stay glib in front of the detectives, but his right side hurt like a bitch even with his healing factor.  

And after all that, his childhood nemesis had still managed to escape.  Barry still couldn’t believe that he hadn’t recognized the metahuman until Snart had said his name.  He hadn’t seen Tony since high school, but they had left a big enough impact on each other that he should have at least known his face.  

The night hadn’t been a total bust, though.  While the charges on the Flash’s permanent record - and since when had the CCPD started keeping permanent records for unnamed vigilantes anyway? - did concern him a bit, he could easily get those disposed of by Cisco or Felicity in a real emergency.  Besides, if he was ever caught, an assault charge would be the least of his problems.  He’d lose his job, and his friends would be put at risk as known associates - or worse yet, accomplices.  

So it wasn’t the pending removal of a charge that led Barry to crack a smile in spite of his pain and tiredness.  

It had been a good night.  He’d gotten to have a conversation with Joe, without the look of tense disapproval that was always on the man’s face, and it had been surprisingly nice even if it was brief.  He’d shown well against Tony, and had some new ideas to run by Cisco about ways that they could possibly beat him.  

But Leonard Snart making up a dumb nickname for him, then holding pending charges over his head in order to force him to help capture Tony Woodward?  That had been unexpected - and entertaining.  And the fact that he’d actually trusted Barry to do what he said he’d do was just the icing on the cake.  

Iris would tease him relentlessly when she found out, but it had been a little bit fun, working with the cops.  It would be dangerous to do it often, unfortunately - if the police weren’t nervous about him anymore, or thought they had him figured out, they might actually start coming after him, and that wouldn’t do.  Maybe Iris’ kill-them-with-kindness approach had some merit, but he wasn’t going to stop being himself.  

But this time he’d be able to work with them and still maintain his reputation.  As long as the CCPD believed he was only helping them because he was forced to, they’d be wary of trusting him.  That suited Barry just fine.  

And because Tony had escaped, Barry could still help the CCPD look for him when he was in uniform.  Snart had been acting cautious, and he’d carefully worded his promise to drop the aiding and abetting charges in a way that was contingent on Tony’s capture.  Even if that hadn’t actually been his intention, unlikely as that was, Barry could point out the miscommunication and use it as justification for the Flash’s continued presence around their crime scenes.  

He smiled, then winced as his shift on the gurney jostled his bruised right side.  At least the pain helped him to shake off some of the drowsiness.  It would be smart to stay awake until his team returned to the Cortex – he could easily have a concussion, and regardless he needed to tell them Tony’s identity as soon as possible. 

He heard Caitlin’s brisk footsteps before he saw her.  “Barry Allen,” she said, her face coming into view above him, “what have you done to yourself this time?” 

“You’re the doctor you tell me,” Barry chuckled – then he coughed, which was not fun at all.  “I think it’s my ribs,” he said once the coughing had subsided. 

“Your – okay, Cisco!  Coffee break’s over!” she shouted, vanishing from Barry’s line of sight.  “I leave you alone for _fifteen minutes,_ ” she snapped, reappearing with a stethoscope, “and you manage to get yourself injured.  Cisco, help him out of the suit.”  

“On it,” Cisco said, appearing out of nowhere and reaching for the suit’s zip closure. 

Barry swatted his hands away.  “Hey – I can get it open!  You don’t need to undress me!” 

“Dude, we took turns giving you sponge baths when you were in your coma,” Cisco said, touching Barry’s shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be soothing.  “Your bare chest is pretty and all, but we’re professionals.  On the bright side, you don’t really have to worry about public nudity here, even if you weren’t going too fast for all of us to watch.” 

Barry’s resisting hand dropped back on the gurney and Cisco gave him a bright smile.  “Thanks,” he said, mistaking Barry’s silence for acquiescence instead of mute horror. 

_Sponge baths._

The cold metal of the stethoscope pressed against Barry’s chest.  “Deep breath,” Caitlin said, and Barry wordlessly complied.  “Well, your breathing doesn’t sound too strained, so that’s good.  I’m afraid I can’t do anything for broken ribs; they should heal on their own without any sort of full-body cast, but it’ll probably take a few hours.  How long has it been since you were injured?” 

Barry cast his memory back.  “Um – maybe an hour?  Probably a little less.” 

“Good to know,” Caitlin said.  “We’ll time how quickly they heal.  I’m glad you don’t get injured more often, but we still have a poor measure of your recovery baseline.” 

“Doc – you aren’t going to do an X-ray?” Barry said with a frown.  “How do you even know whether I broke something?” 

“Fractured ribs often don’t show up on X-rays,” Caitlin explained as she walked away from the table.  “And we’re still not sure how your cells will react to radiation.” 

“Ooh, yikes,” Cisco said, peering down at Barry as he zipped the suit back up.  “Speedster cancer.  Could be some crazy mutations.” 

“Or the reverse could be true, and any damage would simply repair itself,” Caitlin said, shooting Cisco a look when Barry’s eyes widened in alarm.  “Some simple tests would be enough to tell us for certain.” 

“Maybe another time,” Barry said with a smile that felt like a grimace.  “Just don’t go cloning me.” 

“Oh, nobody will be cloning you, Mr. Allen,” said Dr. Wells from behind him.  Barry jumped, then winced when his ribs protested.  “You are one of a kind.” 

“Ugh – yeah, thanks, Dr. Wells,” Barry said, trying to relax while he waited for the flare of pain to subside.  “Always trying to lift my spirits.” 

“I do what I can,” Dr. Wells said seriously, wheeling his way over to Barry’s bedside.  “Can you tell us who did this to you?” 

“Oh my god.”  Barry attempted to sit up, but Cisco gently pressed him back onto the gurney.  “Girder – I found out his name.  His name’s Tony Woodward – I went to school with him, he used to pick on me when I was younger.” 

“Ooh, a school bully,” Caitlin said with a wince.  “I had one of those.  Lexi LaRouche – she used to put gum in my hair.” 

“Me too,” Cisco said.  “Except minus the gum, Jake Puckett went in for swirlies.  God he was a dick.  Didn’t get turned into a metal man, though,” he said, nodding sympathetically at Barry.  “That’s gotta suck.” 

“Yeah, definitely not the best,” Barry said, sucking in an experimental deep breath.  It twinged, but didn’t hurt his ribs as bad as it had before.  “But we’ve still got to figure out where he’s hiding.  Every time he’s pulled a heist, he’s vanished without a trace.  The CCPD has no idea where he’s been hiding.” 

“We could try tracking the places he’s hit, see if we can figure out a pattern,” Cisco suggested.  “And if we collect some evidence from the gas station, maybe we can science up a way around Girder’s metal mouth.” 

“It’s a good idea, but the gas station is a crime scene,” Barry said.  “None of you will be able to get in without getting in trouble or looking suspicious, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to sneak any evidence collection of my own with Lisa breathing down my neck.” 

“Your boss?” Cisco said with a frown.  “The one who said I looked cute even though she saw me, like, one time?” 

“Yeah, that’s her.”  Barry rubbed his eyebrows.  “She investigates all metahuman-related crime scenes personally, and considering everything that went down with Eiling, she’ll probably make up excuses to go alone.” 

Dr. Wells raised an eyebrow.  “Does she not consider you trustworthy?” 

Barry shrugged his good shoulder.  “She’s being properly paranoid – I’m hardly going to hold it against her, not when I _am_ hiding something from her.  And she’s good at the metahuman side of CSI work.”

“But she doesn’t have the resources we have,” Caitlin pointed out, and Barry paused.  Investigating Woodward would be harder if they had to rely purely on CCPD manpower, and Barry wanted this guy off the street, _now._

“The Flash can’t be caught tampering with a crime scene,” Barry said with a frown.  “I could steal the evidence while I’m at work if she finds something good, but she’d notice it was gone and freak out.  We’d need some kind of distraction.”

“I can do distractions,” Cisco said.  “I mean, don’t expect me to cause mayhem, but I can do a little computer hocus-pocus or short out power in the basement lab, or something.  I’ll have to see what there is to work with.” 

“Yeah,” said Barry slowly, turning his head to look at Cisco.  “You know, I think we’ve got everything we need right here.” 

“Definitely,” Cisco said, oblivious.  “A little prep work and – why are you looking at me like that?” 

“She said you were cute,” Barry said, a grin beginning to spread across his face. 

Cisco paled.  “No.  Absolutely not.  If even half of what you’ve told me about her is true, she’ll eat me alive!” 

“Hey, as long as you can get her away from the downstairs lab, I don’t care what you two consenting adults get up to,” Barry said, and Cisco turned bright red.  “What do you think, Caitlin?  Dr. Wells?” 

“It’s far-fetched, but it might actually work,” Caitlin said thoughtfully. 

“True,” Dr. Wells said with a nod.   “It’s certainly a novel tactic.  And regardless of the outcome, it will make the day interesting.” 

Barry leaned back on the gurney, smiling, and tuned out Cisco’s indignant spluttering in favor of coming up with a plan.  Tomorrow promised to be a fun day at the office indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Now that I've gotten back into the groove of this fic, I have high hopes that the next chapter won't take a month. No promises, but I'm aiming to update again before the end of July. 
> 
> If for some reason you want to ask me questions, yell about ships, or talk about fic in general, I'm cardinalstar over on Tumblr as well and I love to chat. :)


	10. The Best-Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with another chapter! Thank you for the feedback on Chapter 9, your comments pushed me to get this chapter out faster than the last one even though it gave me some difficulties. This chapter ended up being more transitional than I had originally planned, but I have at least two long scenes planned for the next one and I didn't feel like they fit. But, as promised, Cisco and Lisa finally get to meet! ^^

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Cisco said in an undertone as he followed Barry into the precinct. 

“Relax, it’ll be fine!” Barry said.  “Besides, you’ve been itching to see more of this place since you insisted on dropping me off on day one.” 

“I’d be a little more interested in seeing your place of gainful employment if you weren’t currently _leading me to my demise,_ ” Cisco grumbled.  “And stop smiling.  You wouldn’t be smiling if you were in my position.” 

Barry choked on his own clever retort, because Cisco was right – he would be furious, and as decently as he thought this distraction routine would go, Cisco still had reason to be mad. 

After sparing two seconds to steamroller over his sudden burst of guilt and self-recrimination, Barry turned to face his friend.  “We don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Cisco smiled.  “I’m being melodramatic, Barry,” he said.  “Trust me, if I really had a problem with being here, I’d tell you.  As it is, I’m just…”

“Nervous?” Barry said, feeling a bit better.  “Don’t be.  You don’t even have to mention where you work.  Actually,” he said, pulling a face, “it would probably be better if you didn’t.  I have no idea how I’d explain us knowing each other.” 

“Yeah, good plan,” said Cisco with an almost-identical grimace.  “Should we go with a classic ‘college roommates’ cover story?” 

“As long as you’re willing to swallow your pride and pretend you went to Sun City University for undergrad, that should work,” Barry said, dropping his voice as they passed Captain Singh’s office. 

Cisco shrugged.  “It’s no MIT, but it’ll do.  And you did crash at my apartment yesterday, so I can confirm that you snore.  How does Iris put up with you?” 

“Wha – I do _not snore,_ ” Barry hissed.  “I have it on good authority that I am absolutely silent.” 

“When you’re in a coma, maybe,” Cisco said, returning the quip with an eyebrow waggle.  “Otherwise, all bets are off.” 

Barry opened his mouth to retort but froze when he saw Eddie’s head pop out from behind his desk.  “Oh, hey Barry!  You’re in early.  Who’s this?” he said, smiling at Cisco with the encouraging earnestness of a golden retriever. 

“Uh – Eddie!  Hey!  This is my roommate, Cisco-”

“Former roommate!” Cisco interjected with a yelp.  “He snores.” 

Eddie blinked, looking between them slowly, and Barry shot Cisco a glare.  “Thanks.” 

“Well,” Eddie said, clearly trying to recover, “any friend of Barry’s is a friend of mine.  Are you just visiting the station for the day?” 

“Yeah, he is,” said Barry, interjecting and ignoring Cisco’s annoyed stare.  “I bumped into him when I was at Jitters and we decided to catch up – I was thinking he could come to lunch with us, if that’s okay.  Do you think Snart and Lisa would mind?” 

Eddie’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he broke into a wide smile.  “Of course!  You can invite anyone you want.  And I’m sure Iris would love to meet Cisco.” 

 _Shit_ – Iris and Cisco already knew each other from Barry’s time in the coma, but she’d told Barry that she’d never brought Eddie to visit STAR Labs before, so he had no way of knowing that.  “I think they’ve already met,” Barry said, fumbling internally for a cover story before settling on the simplest one.  “Anyone who’s gone to Jitters would know Iris.” 

“True,” Eddie said with a fond smile – he was so obviously in love, Barry thought with a little burst of proprietary pride.  Iris deserved someone who talked about her like she hung the moon, and he’d object strenuously to anything less for his best friend.  “But you can introduce him to the Snarts, at least.  They’ll get along like a house on fire.” 

“That’s the plan, Eddie,” Barry said as Cisco squirmed next to him.  “That’s the plan.” 

“You know, technically this could be considered corporate espionage,” Cisco said once they were safe – relatively speaking, of course – in Barry’s upstairs lab.  “I can see the headlines now – ‘STAR Labs Goon Steals Police Secrets.’”

“For once in my life, I am about to be the voice of reason when someone else is nervous,” said Barry, turning in his swivel chair to face his friend.  “First off, you aren’t the one doing the stealing – I am, and if anything goes wrong it’ll be me who gets in trouble.  Second, you’re definitely not a goon.  You’re a sidekick, at _least._ ”

“Shut up,” Cisco said, but he was smiling.  “I’ll show you sidekick.”

Barry picked up his favorite pen and clicked it threateningly.  “Oh yeah – I’d like to see you try.”

Cisco crooked his index finger at Barry, Karate Kid-style.  “Bring it on, Speedy Gonzales.”  

“Oh, this is _adorable,_ ” cooed Lisa’s voice from behind him.

Cisco let out an undignified squawk, and Barry whirled to see his boss standing in the doorway of the lab with Detective Snart right behind her.  

“Guys - hey!” Barry said, forcing a grin while he waited for his heart rate to settle.  How long had they been standing there?  He and Cisco had _literally_ been discussing stealing police evidence just seconds before!

Lisa nodded in acknowledgement that Barry had spoken to her, but she was staring at Cisco.  “I’ve seen you before,” she said, tilting her head to the side.  “You dropped Barry off at work on his first day.  Are you his boyfriend?”  

“Boyfriend?” Barry said, blinking in surprise. Sure, he and Cisco had a more playful relationship than most people who knew him would expect - but that didn’t automatically translate to _boyfriends,_ his bisexuality aside.  He couldn’t help glancing at Snart; there was potential for way too many wrong ideas here, and he didn’t want to have to explain his lack of a dating life, or his sexual orientation, in the middle of a police station.  

But Cisco was shaking his head already, color rising in his cheeks.  “ _Nooo,_ nope.  We are just friends!  Roommates, actually, back in college - but Barry’s single, and I’m definitely single.  Are you single?” he blurted out, then looked instantly horrified.  “Wait - forget that I said that!”  

Lisa laughed; behind her, Snart’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly in what Barry recognized immediately as astonishment.  “Oh, you are too cute,” she said.  “Where have you been keeping this one, Barry?  Nice to see that there’s more sunshine in your life than us old farts can provide.” 

Cisco blinked, probably astonished that Lisa – who was, Barry knew objectively, very pretty – had just called herself an old fart.  “What is Iris, then, chopped liver?” he said. 

Lisa clapped her hands together.  “That settles it – he’s funny, and he already knows Barry’s other friends.  You’re adopted, honey,” she said to Cisco, who was beginning to look more and more like a deer in the headlights.  Barry wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel sorry for him.  “Please tell me you’re sticking around for lunch.” 

“Actually,” said Barry, cutting in – Cisco couldn’t stick to a cover story in this state – “Cisco’s a bit of a science aficionado and I wanted to show him some of what I did here since it’s something that _really_ interests him.  Do you want to stick around for lunch, though?” he said to Cisco, praying that Lisa would take the bait. 

Cisco didn’t seem to be entirely on board with what Barry was doing, but he nodded quickly.  “Yeah – lunch sounds great!  Is Iris going to be there or will it just be us four?” 

Lisa looked at Barry expectantly, and Barry shook her head.  “She’s picking up an extra shift at Jitters – one of her coworkers called in sick,” he explained, glancing briefly back at Snart as he said so.  In retrospect, it was probably a bit weird that he knew his best friend’s schedule even though the two of them were in a bit of a rough patch.  The last thing he needed was for two of his favorite coworkers to think he was some sort of creepy stalker. 

Snart met Barry’s eye and gave him a brief nod, his tiny smile approving.  Barry rolled his eyes inwardly.  Of course Snart wouldn’t think it was weird that Barry had Iris’ schedule memorized.  He and Lisa probably knew each other’s routines down to the minute. 

Lisa nodded decisively.  “Well that settles it,” she said.  “If you don’t mind doubling, I don’t mind.  What about you, Lenny?” she said, raising a significant eyebrow at her brother. 

“Four friends getting lunch?  Sounds fine,” Snart said levelly, shooting Lisa a look that Barry wasn’t sure how to interpret. 

“Perfect.”  Lisa followed Snart out of Barry’s lab, half-turning as she went to look at Barry and Cisco over her shoulder.  “And after we get back, I’ll show you the _good_ lab.  We put the newbies upstairs because of the draft,” she said, flashing Barry a smile. 

“Not gonna argue with you there,” Barry said, returning the smile.  _Bait taken._

“How is this even happening?” Cisco hissed as they left the precinct.  “Barry, this girl is _incredible._ Terrifying – like, I’m afraid for my life right now – but awesome.  Why is she even talking to me?” 

“Are you expecting me to tell you that I have no idea why she’s talking to you?” Barry whispered back.  “Because that would be rude.  I’m not sure what’s going on exactly, but just go with it!  Everything’s working out for the time being.”  He gave Cisco a tiny nudge between the shoulder blades.  “Walk with her, it’ll be fine.” 

Cisco shot Barry a glare, but he squared his shoulders and stepped forward to join the Snart siblings. 

For a minute, Barry was at the back of the group of people by himself.  Then, to his surprise, Snart detached himself from his sister and allowed himself to fall back until he was in step beside Barry. 

“Should I be worried about your friend and my sister?” Snart said quietly, his voice pitched so low that it was almost a rumble.  

Barry glanced at the detective and pulled his coat more tightly around his shoulders.  “I’m more worried about Cisco than Lisa.  I don’t think he’d try anything if Lisa wasn’t interested, but if he did she’d take him apart.”  

“She would,” Snart said, sounding a little too pleased with the idea for Barry to be entirely comfortable - although, he supposed, it would be fun to watch Lisa beating up an unwanted suitor, as long as that suitor wasn’t his friend.  

“It probably won’t come to that,” Barry said with a tiny shrug, looking over at Snart properly.  He hadn’t zipped his windbreaker, and Barry would bet actual money that the white shirt he was wearing underneath it was short-sleeved.  “I obviously don’t know her as well as you do, but Lisa doesn’t seem like the type to jump into something on a whim.”  

Snart shook his head.  “You’d be surprised.  Occasionally,” he said, briefly glancing skyward, “she will pick up on an idea and run with it.” 

Barry pinched his lips together and nodded in agreement, then turned his head away so that Snart wouldn’t see him fighting not to laugh.  _Ha. Run with it._

* * *

To no one’s surprise but Cisco’s, everyone survived lunch.  Just as Eddie had predicted, the initial camaraderie between Lisa and Cisco had been enough to carry a lunch conversation, especially once Cisco started opening up more about his interest in science.  Barry had been forced to jump in a few times and redirect the conversation away from Cisco’s job or extracurriculars, but all in all things had gone better than he’d hoped for.  Even Snart had seemed like he’d had a good time. 

Of course, lunch hadn’t been the part of the day that Barry had been nervous about. 

Lisa’s lab in the basement might have had more high-tech equipment than Barry’s lab, but it was definitely lacking in the space department.  There was sufficient room to maneuver when two people were in the lab, but a group of three – Barry and both Snart siblings – was a bit on the cramped side, at least to an antsy speedster.  Four people was downright claustrophobic. 

To cap it off, Barry wasn’t going to be getting any help from Cisco.  His plan to introduce his friend to Lisa had backfired in the most inconvenient way possible, as his wingman was now too distracted to be any sort of help noticing unusual things around the lab.  He and Lisa weren’t even looking at the equipment.  No, instead they were sitting over by the monitor in the lab’s only two chairs, going through what looked like page after page of oddly-formatted personal blogs and discussing the contents in quiet voices. 

Barry shot Snart an exasperated glance, but to his annoyance the other man seemed to be enjoying the scene laid out before him.  There would be no quarter here. 

Briefly, Barry entertained a fantasy of banishing everyone from the lab and ripping his way through every godforsaken cabinet until he found exactly what they were looking for.  Of course, that brought another point to mind – he didn’t know what sort of evidence the CCPD had on file for this case, or even if Lisa had found the time to collect any samples.  Dr. Wells or Caitlin might be able to hack into the CCPD’s mainframe and access the data, but they didn’t have Cisco’s level of skill, and the last thing Barry wanted was to leave a trail that could connect the dots back to STAR Labs.  No, it would be much simpler in the long run if Barry did this himself. 

Barry slowly moved in the direction of a small stack of files that looked messier than Lisa’s usual orderly arrangements, as if they had been recently disturbed.  He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the other people in the room, but none of them seemed to be paying him any particular attention.  Perfect. 

He had to open each manila folder at normal speed, or else he would risk blowing papers off the table, but once the folder was open it took mere seconds for him to speed-read his way through the contents.  Most of the folders were about ongoing cases, but after going through a couple of irrelevant files he found a few pages of notes in Lisa’s handwriting about the crime scene at the gas station. 

Barry prepared to take a closer look, but before he could do so, he noticed the sensation of eyes on him.  He checked Cisco and Lisa, but no dice there – they were still wrapped up in conspiracy blogs, and while the blurry screenshot of a man on fire was probably somewhat interesting, it wasn’t what had gotten Barry’s attention. 

This time, the offender was actually Detective Snart.  Barry just barely managed to notice the tiny flicker of his eyes as he redirected his gaze.

Barry gritted his teeth – he hadn’t been able to set up a contingency for Snart, and now that the detective was apparently determined to keep one eye on him, his small planning failure was beginning to seem like a major oversight.  He’d hoped that Snart would leave if Lisa was occupied with Cisco, but for some reason he continued to stick around. 

Before Barry could contemplate doing anything really drastic to get Snart’s attention away from him, there was a clattering on the stairs outside.  Lisa and Cisco both turned away from the computer screen at the noise. 

The door to the lab swung open to reveal a breathless-looking Eddie Thawne.  “I’m really sorry to interrupt, guys, but there’s a situation that I think you ought to know about.” 

Barry’s first instinct was to react with annoyance – dammit, now there were _five_ people in the tiny lab – but then he noticed that Eddie was wringing his hands together nervously, and that his normally cheerful face was drawn.  “Eddie, what’s happened?” 

“It’s Iris,” Eddie blurted out, and Barry’s heart stopped beating.  “Tony Woodward showed up to talk to her at Jitters.” 

In an instant, Lisa was on her feet.  “Was anyone hurt?  What did he want?” 

“I’m not entirely sure I understand why he came after her, to be honest,” Eddie said, looking around the room helplessly.  “She thinks it’s about some letter to the editor that she submitted to CCPN, something about metahumans.” 

Barry’s stomach felt like lead.  “It was about the fight between Detective Snart, the Flash, and Woodward, wasn’t it?” 

“It was,” said Eddie, the alarm in his face momentarily replaced with approval at Barry’s observational skills.  Barry almost wanted to laugh.  “How did you know that?” 

“We had a fight about her blog,” Barry said.  “Iris blogs about metahuman stuff sometimes, but I told her I was worried about her safety.  Some of these metahumans aren’t nice people – I didn’t want her to be in danger.” 

Eddie nodded.  “I’ve put a protective detail on her,” he said.  “Joe already knows, but I wanted to make sure someone told you too, Barry.” 

Barry forced himself to smile, even though his face felt like it had frozen solid.  “Thanks, Eddie.” 

Once the swinging door had shut behind Eddie, Barry took a deep breath and turned to face Lisa.  “I haven’t been pushy about working on metahuman cases,” he said.  “I know you’re looking for more stuff on General Eiling and you don’t want me implicated if you find out something new.  But I want in on this one.” 

Lisa nodded slowly.  “I’ll get together what we’ve found so far.” 

As Barry watched Lisa circle the lab and pull evidence from various drawers, shelves, and cabinets, he couldn’t help but feel like this was high school all over again.  He didn’t want to step into the ring with Tony Woodward, whether he was in the Flash suit or out of it. 

But some people never learned – and Tony was after Iris.  This one would have to be personal.   


	11. The Windup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on Chapter 10! It took me a while to finish the next chapter, but it is finally ready for posting and I'm excited to share this one! Getting the ball rolling on some fun stuff. ^^
> 
> I'll be responding to comments tomorrow - it is very late at night here, and I've got an early morning tomorrow so I'll be crashing right after this. Thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter! I'm looking forward to replying to you all. :)

“Okay, Cisco,” Barry said, pacing back and forth across the floor of the Cortex.  “Run this by me again.”  

“There isn’t any new information, Barry,” sighed Cisco.  “We’ve cross-referenced the robberies that we know Tony committed with estimated travel times and the information that Lisa gave you.  Dr. Wells even retasked the STAR Labs satellite.  But until we get the analyses of the physical evidence samples, we won’t be able to do any more than this.”

“Then it sounds like I’m right on time,” Caitlin said.  She walked out of a side office with a sheaf of papers in hand, which she passed to Barry.  “While you read that, we’ll pull up what I found on the monitor.”  

Barry flipped through the papers, streams of information and numbers flickering through his brain as he scanned the pages until - “Keystone Ironworks?” he said, looking up.  

“The soil samples that Lisa collected from the inside of the stolen Hummer contained traces of iron oxide that were significantly above the norm for the area,” Caitlin explained as the monitor zoomed in on the Keystone City area.  “The best known source for the soil is an abandoned Keystone Ironworks mine on the outskirts of the Gem Cities.”

Barry nodded slowly, examining the map on the monitor.  “Seems like a long trip from the Keystone area - too long to justify an ATM robbery.”  

“Unless,” Cisco said, snapping his fingers, “he’s keeping those stolen cars in the mine tunnels and using those when he needs to drive into town to pull a job.”  

Caitlin looked affronted.  “There are APBs out on every car implicated in these heists.  Driving around in one would be monumentally stupid.”  

“Well we are talking about Tony Woodward,” said Barry with a shrug.  “He dropped out of high school to pursue a career in football.  He isn’t exactly the man with the plan.”  

“Dude, he’s got a record,” Cisco said, pulling up a set of files on the monitor.  “Check this out.  A couple of DWIs, one aggravated assault, and some stuff in his juvenile record too.  It’s sealed, but I could probably get into it if you guys think there’s anything in there we need to know.”  

Barry shook his head.  “I know what’s in there.  In high school a bunch of Tony’s friends were convicted of selling prescription painkillers.  Tony was questioned, but he wasn’t implicated in anything.”  

Cisco whistled.  “Damn.  How did a bunch of high schoolers get ahold of narcotics?”  

“They were almost certainly prescribed as a component of surgery aftercare,” said Dr. Wells from the back of the room.  “Surgeries are relatively common in high school athletes - highly competitive play in conjunction with growth spurts and other ongoing developmental changes can and does lead to a high rate of injury, particularly in more physical sports.  And the standards for prescribing opiates used to be less stringent.”  

“Good thing I got a straight-up F in gym, then,” Cisco said.  “The last thing anyone needs to see is this guy drugged to the gills on the good stuff.”  

Barry snorted.  “So it’s settled then?” he said, eager to divert the topic back to Woodward and away from high school drug busts.  “I’ll run out to Keystone Ironworks, check around to see if Woodward has a lair there, and kick his ass?”  

“Maybe we should hold off on the ass-kicking until we figure out how you can actually beat him,” Caitlin said, biting her lip.  “You were pretty beat-up when you came back to STAR Labs last night.  I don’t think your usual strategy is going to work with this guy.”  

Barry winced at the reminder, but Caitlin was right – Tony had laid him out flat with a single blow, and it hadn’t taken any apparent effort on his part. 

“It’s a classic conundrum – the unstoppable force meets the immovable object,” Dr. Wells said, tilting his head in Barry’s direction.  “But no fear.  We will continue looking for solutions.  I’m convinced that at least one of our tests will turn up something conclusive.” 

“Yeah, we’ll keep looking, man,” Cisco said, clapping Barry on the shoulder bracingly.  “Caitlin or I will let you know if we find anything, but they’re looking for you back at the station.” 

Barry cocked his head to the side.  “Wait a minute.  Cisco – how do you know that they’re looking for me?” 

“Lisa texted me asking where you were,” Cisco replied.  “I told her you were grabbing a coffee with me on your way back to the station, but that was a few minutes ago so you should probably get going.” 

“I will, but – you got her _number?_ ”  Barry stared at him incredulously.  “You just asked for Lisa Snart’s number, and she gave it to you.” 

Cisco shrugged, a sheepish blush coloring his cheeks.  “I was as surprised as anyone, believe me,” he said.  “But I think we hit it off.  I don’t want to make a habit out of honeypotting, but in this case I ought to be giving you a high-five.”

Barry shook his head slowly.  “I’ve created a monster,” he announced to Caitlin with a grin before walking toward the door of the Cortex.  “Keep an eye on him.” 

* * *

There was nothing like a string of seemingly-disconnected coincidences to hold Len’s attention.  “Okay,” he said to Thawne, who was hovering beside his desk like a directionless helicopter.  “Run this by me again.  Iris is currently at her house, and you’ve placed a protective detail on her.” 

“Yeah.”  Thawne nodded jerkily, then bit his lip.  “I just hope that’ll be enough.  This guy mowed through the wall of a gas station and bullets can’t stop him – what if he sees the squad cars and decides messing with the CCPD sounds like a good time?” 

“Let’s stick to what we know,” Len said, raising a finger to halt Thawne’s growing list of conjectures.  “One, Woodward approached Iris at work.  Two, he confronted her about something she’d written and given to the news.” 

“Yeah,” said Thawne, drawing in a shaky breath.  “I still don’t understand why Woodward would go after her, though.  She’s a writer, and he knocks over ATMs.  Unless he’s looking for a biography, there’s nothing that would make him target her.” 

“Could be notoriety,” Len said, considering.  “Woodward likes attention.  The brightly-colored getaway cars, the frequent heists.”

Thawne frowned thoughtfully.  “That’s a good point.  Taking down well-known metahumans like the Flash could get him noticed by the crime families.  Maybe he’s looking for an in with one of their organizations.” 

“It’s worth considering.  I’ll put the word through to Lisa, see if she has any intel on connections between Woodward and the families.  The Darbynians and Santinis haven’t been connected to any metahuman activity yet, but it’s just a matter of time.” 

“Superpowered organized crime.”  Eddie grimaced.  “That’s the last thing Central needs.”  He looked up at the second floor, and Len followed his gaze to the closed door of Barry’s lab.  “Should we put Barry on this too?” 

Len’s gut reaction was to keep Barry far away from even the mention of organized crime – but this was his best friend’s safety on the line.  He deserved to be informed. 

But truth be told, Len was worried about Barry.  The CSI had left the station with Cisco in tow as soon as he’d extracted Lisa’s promise to share the relevant case files, and had fallen off the map for over an hour.  Lisa had been able to track him down by getting in contact with Cisco, but he still had no idea where Barry had run off to or why he’d vanished in the middle of an investigation.  As crowded as Jitters was on workdays, there was no way that a coffee run should have taken an hour. 

When Barry had reappeared, he’d marched straight through the station and vanished inside his lab, closing the door firmly without a word to anyone, and he hadn’t come out since.  It had been hours.  Barry was probably working himself to the bone, without food or rest.  Did Len really need to add to his worries without substantiated evidence to back up their theory? 

“I’ll talk to Lisa first,” Len temporized.  “If this is just guesswork, no need to worry Barry with it.” 

Thawne gave him a long look, then nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll see if I can at least get Barry out of the lab for a bit.  If I can get him moving, maybe it’ll get him out of his head.  And I need to hit something.”  Len arched an eyebrow, and Thawne rolled his eyes.  “Come on, Snart, I’m talking about the _punching bag,_ ” he sighed.  “Not Barry.” 

“As long as we’re on the same page,” Len said with a smirk before turning back toward Lisa’s lab. 

Len was halfway down the staircase when he nearly collided with Lisa as she rounded a corner.  “Shit – there you are,” she said.  “Get down here, I have something you need to see.” 

Len followed her into the lab, a sudden wave of unease twisting his stomach and making his fingers cold.  Very few things could rattle his sister, and in these circumstances he was sure that this wouldn’t be good news. 

“I had a hunch that our suspect is a blogger, or at least follows them,” Lisa said, pulling open a string of tabs on her laptop.  “Nobody actually reads letters to the editor, so it struck me as odd that a brief letter to CCPN would be the inciting incident for what basically amounts to stalking.  So I took a look at Iris’ Facebook profile-”

Len closed his eyes briefly.  “That’s intrusion of solitude.” 

“You’d have a point if Iris was a suspect and not a potential victim,” Lisa said.  “But she’s not, and her profile is set to public.  Look at this.” 

She scrolled through Iris’ most recent posts, and Len’s eyebrows rose slowly.  Aside from several photos of her and Detective Thawne, almost every post was a shared link to a metahuman-related blog.  There were several sites that occurred only once, but there were two or three that were recurring. 

“Weird, huh?” Lisa said.  “I was checking these out when Cisco and Barry were here, and all of these blogs are related to metahuman rights.  Nondiscrimination, positive recognition, visibility, the works.  She’s never talked about any of this where I could hear, but she seems to care about it a lot.” 

“It’s a good point,” said Len, frowning.  “But it doesn’t explain why Woodward is targeting her specifically, unless he’s looking for a sympathetic ear.  There could be any number of blogs that would be a good platform.”

“That’s true, except most of these blogs are anonymous,” Lisa said.  “He’d have a hard time getting ahold of a blogger if he wanted to make a point.  So I went looking for the letter Iris wrote to CCPN.”  She opened another tab and motioned for Len to sit down.  “It’s a critique on their coverage of the fight at the gas station last night – specifically about the Flash’s involvement.  The original article said he’d made the situation worse, but Iris’ letter pointed out a list of other conflicts in the past month where she claimed his intervention had been a good thing.  There was a picture included, too – I think you’ll recognize it.” 

Len looked at the photo that Lisa had pulled up, and took a deep breath.  He recognized it – the high-rise bombing from two weeks ago, where Flash had saved a window-washer from falling to his death.  The Scarlet Speedster’s trail of gold lightning was easily recognizable in the shot, now that Len had seen him in action a few times.  It had been the first bout of good publicity for the vigilante, once it had been determined that he wasn’t the prime suspect.  “I remember this,” Len said, nodding.  “He ran straight up a building to catch that man.  Didn’t Iris go to the scene?” 

“She did,” Lisa said, minimizing the tab and pulling up a separate window.  “And she said in her letter that she took that photo herself.  But I thought I’d seen it before – so I did some digging, and look.” 

The post was from a pro-metahuman blog, dated back to the night of the san Souci bombing, and it showed the exact same picture. 

“This blog – The Flash Lives,” Lisa said, tapping the screen with one finger.  “It had Iris West’s photograph posted weeks before CCPN got ahold of it.  I’d bet money that this is her blog, and if it is I think it’s safe to say we have a problem.” 

She clicked the ‘home’ button at the top of the blog, and when Len saw the most recent post he sighed.  There was a link to a news article on the attempted robbery at the gas station, but what really caught his attention was the caption beneath the headline. 

_Wherever you are, the Flash and the CCPD are looking for you.  Bully then, bully now._

“I have no idea how Woodward managed to track her down,” Lisa said, pursing her lips.  “But if he came to the same conclusions I did, it could be that he’s after Iris in the hopes of setting up some sort of grudge match.  A showdown, between him and the Flash.  But we need to prove that it’s her blog before we take this any further.” 

“Barry would know,” said Len, rising from the desk.  “He knew Iris had a blog.  I’m sure he knows what it’s called.” 

Lisa followed him.  “What’s weird is that he didn’t mention this before.  It could have helped the investigation.  We would have spent a lot less time running down leads if we’d had a definite motive to work from.” 

“He might have been trying to protect her,” said Len with a frown.  “Iris’ boyfriend is part of the Metahuman Taskforce, and so is Detective West.  Sympathizing with metahuman criminals and vigilantes might not be a popular position in her family.” 

“If Tony Woodward really does intend to use her as bait for the Flash,” Len said, “she’s more involved than any of us would have guessed.  People will want answers.  How did she get that kind of influence?  What does she know about him?  If Barry knew about this, he might have been more worried about what we’d think than about the threats from Woodward.” 

“Regardless,” said Lisa with a glower, “it was still careless, reckless, and irresponsible.”

Len said nothing.  Because when push came to shove, if it was about protecting Lisa, who was to say that he wouldn’t make the same call that Barry had? 

They pushed open the door at the top of the stairwell and emerged into pandemonium.  The station, normally quiet at night, had become a hotbed of activity.  Officers were moving rapidly around the building in twos and threes, and Len paused to catch what he could of their conversation.

He heard Carmichael and Mullins mentioned, a report of a damaged squad car, and an order for a dispatch of additional units to the West residence.    

Then he saw Detective West and Detective Thawne converging on Captain Singh’s office, and his stomach sank. 

“We’re too late, aren’t we?” Lisa said, touching his arm.  “Woodward got to her somehow.” 

“Somehow,” Len sighed.  He spared a moment of regard for the officers who had been on Iris West’s protective detail.  They would have done their best, and he hoped that none of them had been seriously injured. 

“Who’s going to tell Barry?” Lisa said, her brow furrowing in concern. 

Len looked up at the second floor balcony and saw a single still figure, looking down on the chaos of the main station.  “I have a feeling he already knows.” 

Lisa closed her eyes briefly, all her earlier annoyance with the CSI forgotten in the face of the new development.  “You need to go talk to him.  West and Thawne are needed to coordinate the response, and he trusts you.” 

Trust, Len couldn’t help but think as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, wasn’t the most important factor here.  Barry would listen to him, sure.  Would tolerate his condolences, accept his updates on the investigation.  But Barry wouldn’t unburden himself to Len the way he would a friend like Cisco or Iris. 

Luckily, Len knew a thing or two about grief and fear.  He’d just have to do the best he could. 

Barry turned his head slightly at the sound of Len’s approach, but didn’t look at him.  “What do we know so far?” 

“Not much, Barry,” Len said, refraining at the last moment from calling him _kid._ “Just that Woodward was able to get to Iris.  We’re looking for him.” 

Barry nodded slowly, tapping his fingers against the railing.  “Tell a squad to check out Keystone Ironworks,” he said quietly.  “Soil samples from the bottom of Tony’s shoes contained higher-than-normal traces of iron oxide, and Keystone Ironworks was his last place of employment.  Someone down there might know something.” 

Len nodded, then took a deep breath.  “Lisa and I think that Woodward might be interested in Iris because of her connection to the Flash.”  Barry’s fingers stilled, and he looked at Len out of the corner of one eye.  “It’s possible that he’ll try to set up some sort of confrontation, using Iris as bait.” 

“Dammit!”  Barry slammed one fist down on the metal railing and turned to face Len.  “You’re sure about this?” 

“It’s a theory, but it seems like a reasonable one,” Len said, wishing he could offer Barry some form of reassurance.  “But we’ll have an opportunity.  If Woodward tries to get the Flash’s attention, we’ll hear about it.  We can track him down.”

“That’s assuming he doesn’t just wait with her, stall until the Flash comes to him,” Barry said, pacing back and forth across the floor.  “He could do it – keep all of us on edge, wait until we’ve exhausted our manpower.  Do you have any idea how easy it is to make someone disappear in a place like Central City?  Even with the Flash looking, we might not find her until it’s too late.” 

Len held back a wince at Barry’s bitter pessimism.  “You think the Flash will help?” he said, trying to redirect the conversation. 

“He’ll help,” Barry growled.  “Iris – she told me she met him, that night at the high-rise.  That he talked to her.  She’s convinced that he likes her, for some reason.” 

“I take it you don’t approve,” Len said. 

Barry’s eyes narrowed.  “Of course I don’t.  It’s why we fought.  Whether this guy gives a damn about her or not, it doesn’t mean she’s invincible!  He can’t protect her all the time, any more than the cops can, and associating with him has already gotten her in trouble.”  He paused in his relentless pacing and looked at Len.  “Can you do something for me?” 

“Of course,” Len said automatically.  “What do you need?” 

For a second, a glimmer of light came back into Barry’s eyes.  “Eddie set up a punching bag in the lab,” he said.  “Could you hold it for me?  I really need to hit something that won’t break.” 

Len nodded, relieved at the mention of a strategy that would help release some of Barry’s abundance of anxious energy.  He’d seen a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms in his day, and it was good to know that at least one of Barry’s preferred methods wasn’t as destructive as some. 

It also provided Len with an opportunity to watch Barry perform a task that was purely physical, as opposed to the CSI’s regular day job.  To his surprise, he found few major flaws in Barry’s technique.  His stance was solid, he was hitting the bag with the correct part of his fists, and he moved fast without swinging wildly like novices tended to do.  There were a few things that Len could have pointed out to him, like his tendency to telegraph his hits, but this wasn’t the time.  This was stress relief, not training. 

Besides, Len concluded, Barry wasn’t an amateur.  Someone had taught this kid how to throw a punch – not perfectly, but well enough to be effective.  Later on, Len decided, he’d offer to show Barry some of the tricks he’d learned over the years.  But for now he was content to watch. 

After a flurry of particularly quick jabs, Barry looked up at Len, wiping a few beads of sweat off of his forehead.  “Do you ever just – feel like you could have done more?” he said quietly. 

Len took a deep breath at the sadness in his eyes, and swallowed.  “Comes with the job, Barry,” he said, thinking back to times when he’d been too slow on the uptake, hadn’t made the right call, and failed to protect people because of it.  “It’s part of this life.  You always feel like you could have done more.” 

Barry nodded.  “I should have told you about Iris’ blog as soon as Tony threatened her.  If you’d known she was connected to the Flash in some way, maybe we could have prevented this.”  He drove a solid punch into the bag, the force of the blow rocking Len back on his heels slightly. 

“Could be,” Len said.  “But we don’t know that.  All we can do is think about what we’d do differently next time, and try not to make the same mistakes.” 

Barry bit his lip, and Len caught a brief glimpse of overbright hazel eyes before the CSI dropped his gaze.  “If he hurts her – I don’t know how I’ll be able to live with myself.” 

Len slapped the punching bag with one hand, forcing himself to ignore the hollow sadness in the pit of his stomach.  “For now, don’t live with it.  Let it out.  Be angry.  You can’t hurt anyone here.” 

A small, jagged sound tore its way out of Barry’s throat, and he slammed a fist into the bag.  The blow rattled the chain, and Len was forced to rock backward again to absorb it. 

“Again,” he ordered, and Barry bared his teeth before driving a punch into the bag with such force that, for a moment, Len worried that the seam of the bag would split.  He followed that strike with another, equally intense, and then continued pounding away at the bag with renewed determination in a string of hits that would have seriously injured a human opponent, if they weren’t able to counter quickly enough. 

It was unexpected, and Len had to hide a grin as the rain of blows continued to fall.  He couldn’t wait to tell Lisa about this. 

At last, Barry lowered his hands and dropped his head, resting it against the punching bag.  His chest was heaving from exertion, the sound of his breathing the only noise in the otherwise silent lab, but he was finally still. 

“Tell Lisa to take me off the investigation,” he said quietly. 

Len blinked.  “What?” 

“You heard me.”  Barry opened his eyes and looked at Len, his gaze measured and steady.  “Take me off the investigation.  I’m no good to Iris like this.”  

Len nodded slowly.  “And then what?” he said, because Barry Allen would never be able to sit on the sidelines while Iris was in danger, no matter how much he trusted his coworkers to find her. 

“Then?” Barry said, giving Len a tight smile.  “I’m gonna help you find the Flash.” 


	12. Grudge Match

Once he’d decided to take the gamble, Barry didn’t waste any time.  He cleared out the evidence, returned the case files to Lisa’s lab, and made two phone calls. 

The first call was to Joe West, and it confirmed what Barry had feared – any easy avenues of tracking Iris down, like a cell phone trace, were out of the picture.  Apparently Tony had crushed her phone during the confrontation at Jitters, and she hadn’t had time to get a new one. 

The second call was to Cisco, and Barry could only pray that it wouldn’t backfire horribly. 

“So let me get this straight,” Cisco said as he stepped into Barry’s lab, eyeing him and Snart nervously.  “You want me to pull some computer hocus-pocus, twiddle my thumbs, and tell you exactly where you can find the Flash?” 

“That’s exactly what I want,” said Barry, willing Cisco to pick up the trail of the story they’d begun to flesh out during Barry’s short phone call.  “You’re better with computers than anyone else I know, at least in Central.  If we can track the Flash down, we can ask him to help find Iris.” 

Cisco nodded slowly.  “You do realize that the Flash is basically famous for being a ghost, right?  I might be able to figure out some of his movement patterns if I can borrow CCPD’s cushy analysis software, but I can’t guarantee that he’ll just show up.” 

“We can work with that for now,” Snart said.  “As long as Barry is here, you should have the access you need.  He can get you into the system.  If you need additional clearance or access to the traffic cams, I can talk to Captain Singh.” 

Barry stared at him in surprise.  “Wait – you’re sticking around?  I thought you’d go with the taskforce.” 

“Until Flash or Woodward is found, there’s no need for the taskforce,” Snart responded.  “So I’ll stay.” 

Barry’s heart rate ratcheted up by a few more notches.  He’d figured in the possibility that Snart might stay, but it would have been much easier for him and Cisco to spin a convincing story if the detective wasn’t breathing down their necks. 

He was taking a calculated risk, trying to game the system this way.  With Cisco’s help and the CCPD’s resources, it would be easy to come up with a method of cross-referencing that would pinpoint some of the places he frequented as the Flash while excluding places – like STAR Labs – that he’d rather keep a secret.  Any misinformation that he and Cisco fed into the algorithm would be misconstrued as a hazard of the guesswork involved, and the locations they selected as possibilities would make good rendezvous points with the few CCPD members that Barry trusted if he ever needed to get in contact with them. 

But it wasn’t the algorithm that had Barry concerned – in this case, the Flash would show up almost exactly where Snart and the Metahuman Taskforce was expecting him to.  What worried him was the challenge of spinning a feasible strategy with Captain Cold himself lurking over their shoulders.  Snart’s willingness – eagerness, even – to help them find the Flash didn’t mean that he wouldn’t ask questions if parts of their analysis didn’t check out. 

“Okay,” Cisco said, taking a deep breath.  He settled himself in front of the lab’s dual-monitor setup and pulled a flash drive out of his messenger bag. 

Snart tilted his head.  “What’s on the drive?” 

“Social media stuff,” said Cisco quickly.  “I managed a few companies’ social media networks for an internship a few summers ago, and I picked up some tricks.  Cross-referencing some public posts might give us a list of places where the Flash has been seen recently.” 

Snart nodded, seeming content with the response, and Barry had to quickly squish his own smile.  Cisco had answered without hesitation, which probably meant that there was at least some truth in his reply – and the thought of the tech genius poring over corporate media pages was more entertaining than it probably should have been. 

Cisco began running the program, and Barry held his breath as brightly-colored dots began accumulating on a map of Central City.  “Each dot is a social media post containing the keywords ‘The Flash,’” Cisco explained.  “And if I add a few more parameters to clear out the noise…”  He punched a string of keys, and several of the scattered dots vanished – including, Barry noticed with relief, the small clusters of posts located near STAR Labs.  “Boom.  Some probability clusters.  Not perfect, but they might be enough to go on.” 

Barry and Snart both leaned closer to the computer screen.  Somehow, Cisco had come through – the locations displayed were all places that Barry had frequented in the Flash suit, but that weren’t associated with his operations at STAR Labs.  A few of the locations, like Jitters and the park near the waterfront, had some overlap with his personal life, but they were common enough spots for congregation that they wouldn’t be traceable back to him. 

“This looks workable,” said Snart, and Barry held back a tiny glow of pride at the impressed-sounding undercurrent in the detective’s voice.  “You said you adapted this program from advertising software?” 

“Yeah – it was part of my grad school project,” Cisco said, his eyes widening slightly.  “Nothing too fancy, but it gets the job done.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Cisco,” said Barry, giving his friend a look.  They’d need to sit down after this was over and write down exactly what Cisco had used for his cover story – otherwise he might contradict himself down the line, and Snart would definitely notice that. 

“Barry’s right,” Snart said absently, tilting his head as he looked at the screen.  “I don’t know what you do for a living, but if it doesn’t pan out, the CCPD could use someone with your talents.” 

“What – really?” Cisco squeaked.  “I mean – I’m flattered, but we don’t even know if this program is going to help.” 

“You came up with a workable problem-solving tool in less than half an hour, with no prior notice,” Snart replied, finally turning to look at Cisco.  “In my book, that’s good work, kid.” 

Cisco blushed faintly, and Barry took the opportunity to cut in.  “How will you decide where to look for the Flash?  He could show up at any of these places – are you going to put officers on stakeout until he shows up?” 

Snart shook his head, turning back to Barry.  “Can’t waste the manpower.  We’ll have to hope that he stays in the area after he’s spotted.” 

“There is one thing we could do that might help,” Cisco said, biting his lip.  “I’m friends with Iris on Facebook, and her profile is set to public.  I could post something on her wall pretending that she was supposed to meet me for coffee after her shift, and ask why she didn’t show.  If the Flash sees it, he might go to Jitters to check on things.” 

“That’s a pretty good idea,” said Barry, belatedly kicking himself for not thinking of it first.  “But what makes you think that the Flash is just sitting around stalking Iris on social media?” 

Cisco shot Barry a look that read _don’t overdo it, buddy._ “You said the CCPD thought the Flash was young, right?” he said to Snart.  “If he’s a Millennial, he definitely knows what Facebook is.” 

Barry couldn’t help fidgeting at the mildly amused look that crossed Snart’s face.  Cisco must have noticed, because his eyes widened slightly and he subsided without another word. 

“Make the post,” Snart said.  “I’ll wait on standby at Jitters.  Keep me updated if there are any new hits on social media.” 

Once the detective’s footsteps had faded from earshot, Cisco turned to Barry with an astonished expression on his face.  “Jesus.  First of all, that man is intense when Lisa’s not around.  Second, were you _jealous?”_

“How long a head start should we give him before I get the suit on?” Barry said, determinedly ignoring both the question and the slight blush he could feel rising in his face.  The Scarlet Speedster was a more apt nickname than Snart knew, apparently. 

Cisco continued to watch him closely, but thankfully he didn’t seem inclined to say anything else on the subject.  “If you go right now, that will definitely look suspicious.  I vote that you wait for a bit, and in the meantime we can talk strategy.  Dr. Wells and I had a few more ideas about how you could beat Tony, and the simulations are scary, but promising.” 

“Scary how?” asked Barry, raising an eyebrow. 

“Like, the potential for serious injury kind of scary.”  Cisco tapped his fingers nervously against the desk.  “Every material, no matter how durable it is, has a tensile strength – it can only take so much applied force before it breaks.  If you hit Tony at the right angle, at a high enough speed, you could do some major damage.” 

Barry nodded.  “How fast are we talking?” 

“Our best estimate is 837 miles per hour,” Cisco said, visibly swallowing.  “Mach 1.1.” 

Cold fingers of adrenaline ran down the back of Barry’s neck.  “Cisco – I’ve never run that fast,” he protested. 

“We know,” Cisco said, raising a placating hand.  “But Dr. Wells seemed sure you could do it.  We’ve got faith in you.” 

“That isn’t the problem,” said Barry around the lump in his throat.  Just because he’d never broken the sound barrier didn’t mean he _couldn’t_ do it.  In fact, he was almost certain that he could.  It was controlling himself at that speed that scared him. 

Since his sprint up the side of a building, Barry hadn’t pushed himself to go faster – there hadn’t been any need, and he was able to stick to his usual cruising speed of five hundred or so miles an hour without any concern.  Now, he wished he’d spent more time figuring out his limits.  If there was no other way to beat Tony, he’d have to do it – with Iris’ safety on the line, he wasn’t about to hesitate.  “I should have prepared for this,” he said to Cisco, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.  “We knew I’d have to go faster one of these days.” 

“It’ll be okay,” Cisco said, putting a hand on Barry’s shoulder and smiling sympathetically.  “It might not come to that, but if it does, we’ll be back at STAR Labs, all of us.  Between me, Caitlin, and Dr. Wells, we’ll figure this out and help you get Iris back.” 

Barry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

Luckily, Cisco seemed to understand.  He gave Barry’s shoulder one final squeeze before releasing him.  “Don’t you have a suit to get into?” 

“Shit, you’re right.”  Barry zipped past Cisco and removed his duffel bag from the locker – he’d need to leave the station before changing, and at this rate Snart would have had a decent head start. 

Once he had switched his civilian clothing for the tripolymer suit, Barry crouched down on the roof of a building and pulled out his cell phone.  “Cisco, I’m in position,” he said.  “Tell Lisa to tell Snart that the Flash was spotted in the downtown area, and that he should be ready.” 

Barry took a circuitous route to Jitters, relying on the run through the dark streets to clear his head and give him time to compose himself.  Cisco had done his part – now it was up to him to sell this. 

His entrance into the coffee shop was loud and dramatic, the echo of his approach rolling off the walls, and Barry spared a fraction of a second to enjoy it before looking around for Snart.  If the detective had gotten Lisa’s warning, he’d already be here waiting. 

“You look better,” said Snart, emerging from behind the wall of the break area, and Barry was barely able to stop himself from jumping out of his skin.  Intimidating vigilantes did _not_ flinch when startled, dammit.  “Your ribs giving you trouble still?” 

For a brief moment, Barry had no idea what he was talking about – then he remembered that Snart had last seen the Flash lying on the ground after Tony had knocked him out at the gas station.  “No trouble,” he replied.  “I heal fast.” 

Snart nodded before his gaze settled on Barry intently.  “You seem surprised to see me here,” he said.  “Were you expecting someone else?  Iris West, perhaps?” 

Barry had been planning to play it up, to make a show out of denying that he knew Iris before finally agreeing to give the game away and admit their involvement – but now that he was at Jitters, plotting and scheming to cover his own ass while his best friend was still out there in harm’s way, he found that he couldn’t do it.  “Where is she?” he snapped, the reverberation in his voice turning the question into a snarl.  “What do you know?” 

“She’s been taken hostage by Tony Woodward,” Snart said, thankfully seeming prepared to ignore the sharpness of Barry’s outburst.  “Rumor has it that you and Miss West know each other.  That he’s using her to get to you.” 

Barry took a deep breath and met Snart’s cool blue eyes.  “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because your assistance could be pivotal in finding her,” Snart replied, “and in capturing Woodward.  In spite of how things went last time, the deal I offered you still stands.  You can get those charges dropped, gain some good PR.” 

Barry was tempted to snap that he didn’t care about PR, he cared about finding Iris – but that would be showing his hand too soon.  “I want him stopped,” he said instead, “but this doesn’t touch her.  Iris West being targeted isn’t her fault – we’ve spoken, but we’re not affiliated.” 

Snart nodded slowly.  “You don’t want her linked to you.” 

“I’ll help any way I can,” said Barry, letting out a jagged breath.  “Eyes on the ground, extra ears, whatever you need.  Just don’t put this on her,” he said with barely-suppressed desperation.  “She’s a good person – she doesn’t deserve to be associated with me.” 

Some of the impassivity slid out of Snart’s face, and Barry waited with mounting anxiety to see what the metahuman detective would say.  He didn’t have any contingencies for this – if Snart didn’t agree to a new deal, he had no idea how he would protect Iris from the fallout. 

“I’m not interested in making trouble for Iris,” said Snart, and the relief Barry felt was so great that he almost staggered.  “I’m interested in her safety.  If you are too, then we have a common goal.”  He pulled out a folded piece of paper and slid it across the counter; after a beat of hesitation, Barry stepped forward and took it. 

“My number,” Snart said calmly, and Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Use a pay phone or a burner if you have news.  Whatever works.” 

“I will,” Barry said numbly. 

He flashed out the front door in search of Woodward, fleeing the scene before he did something genuinely stupid.    

* * *

Running around the city wasn’t the best use of Barry’s energy, but anything was better than cooling his heels at the CCPD or STAR Labs.  He flickered his way through the streets in a grid pattern, searching for signs of Tony’s presence while his team fed any newly-available information into his ear.  He took a few detours to stop other various petty crimes when he saw them, but afterwards he always returned to his search pattern. 

“Guys, this isn’t working,” Barry said after half an hour of fruitless running.  “There’s got to be a better way to track him down.” 

“Police haven’t had any leads,” Cisco replied, typing furiously in the background.  “Nothing on traffic cams either.” 

“Maybe we can narrow the search,” Caitlin said.  “The other places that Tony’s frequented have been places that were familiar to him, like the abandoned mine out in Keystone.  If he’s taken Iris somewhere in Central City, maybe it’ll be a place he’s already been.” 

As hunches went, it was a decent one.  “I’ll try our old high school – it’s near here and a lot of shit went down when we were younger.  Good thinking,” Barry said, nodding his head even though none of his team could see him. 

He altered his course and sped over to their high school, checking the locations he knew Tony had frequented in the past – the football field, the old 300 building, the cafeteria – but there was nothing.  “He’s not here, guys,” he said into his comm, then paused, because if Tony was setting up a grudge match based on his personal history with _Iris,_ this wasn’t the place he’d choose.  “Hold that thought,” he said, then ran several miles down the road to Carmichael Elementary School – the first school that Tony and Iris had attended together.  Barry had been lucky in middle school, and had been able to enjoy his classes and Iris’ company without the looming specter of his childhood bully lurking over his shoulder, but his luck had run out in high school.  Then it had been separate schools for them – they’d still seen each other, but the tail end of Barry’s academic career had been markedly devoid of anything resembling close friends.  Instead, he’d gotten Tony Woodward and the rest of his gang. 

He rounded the corner of the building and bit his lip when he saw the bright yellow Hummer parked in front of the doors.  “Guys, I’ve got him.  He’s at Carmichael Elementary School – I’m going to go find a phone and tell Snart.” 

“Involving the police will put your identity at risk,” said Dr. Wells in his ear.  “Iris knows your identity, to say nothing of the fact that the officers in the Metahuman Taskforce know both of you, and well.  I worry that you’re compromising your own safety in your haste to ensure that Woodward is satisfactorily apprehended.” 

“Nothing about this situation is normal,” Barry retorted.  “Tony has had Iris for way too long, and I need the Taskforce’s help to clear her name before she’s linked to me.  I’m not talking about this now.” 

There was a resounding silence on the other end of the line.  “Very well,” Dr. Wells said finally.  “But we will be discussing this.” 

Barry swallowed – he _really_ wasn’t in the mood for a fight with his mentor, on top of everything else that had happened today.  But he had bigger problems, like finding a phone, and a way into the building. 

He skidded to a stop outside the front doors, appraising the building warily.  The principal’s office would have a phone, and elementary schools didn’t have electronic locks – he could easily vibrate the simple lock enough to shake the bolts free of their housings.  He’d broken enough windows lately. 

After rattling his way into the building, Barry slipped into the principal’s office and picked up the phone on the desk.  He dialed the necessary extension, then keyed in the phone number Snart had given him and waited. 

Snart picked up almost immediately.  “This is Detective Leonard Snart speaking.” 

“It’s me,” said Barry, remembering at the last second to disguise his voice.  “I’m at an elementary school – Carmichael Elementary.  Woodward’s stolen Hummer is at the scene.”

Snart hummed on the other end of the line.  “Have you gotten a visual on Woodward or West?”   

“I haven’t seen them,” said Barry, before lowering the phone to glance around the office.  If he strained his ears, he could hear a voice coming from one of the hallways, faint but audible.  It was Woodward, shouting something about his glory days and being the big man on campus – predictable, but chilling all the same.  “But Woodward is here, and I don’t think he’s talking to himself.” 

Then the jangling sound of the school fire alarm cut through the night, and Barry slammed the phone back down on the receiver.  That had to be Iris, calling for help in the only way she could – and her putting one over on Tony would definitely piss him off. 

Sure enough, when he peeked around the doorframe into the hallway, he saw Tony grab Iris by the arm and drag her away from the wall before crushing the alarm box in his metal-plated fist.  Barry gritted his teeth.  There would be no waiting for backup, no orders this time.  Snart could complain all he wanted, but this needed to end, _now._  

“Tony Woodward!” he called, stepping out into the open.  “I hear you’ve been looking for me!”

His voice carried down the hall, the vibrations echoing oddly off the metal lockers.  Tony reacted immediately, dropping Iris and turning in Barry’s direction.  “Flash,” he said, grinning as his metallic armor spread to cover his arms and face.  “So you showed.  Come to rescue your blogger girlfriend?” 

“I’ve heard that you’ve been making trouble, Tony,” Barry replied, walking down the hallway as calmly as he could manage.  “The police are looking for you, and I can personally guarantee that they’re on their way.  If you’re smart, you’ll leave while you still can.” 

Tony narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.  “I don’t care.  If I’m backed into a corner, I’m taking you down with me.” 

Barry forced himself to meet Tony’s gaze head-on instead of looking at Iris, checking to make sure she was okay.  Let Tony think that she was just a random groupie – if he didn’t realize the value of the person he’d grabbed, he wouldn’t be able to tell any of the other prisoners in Iron Heights that the Flash’s Achilles heel was a barista at Jitters and the daughter of a cop.  She’d be just another name, another face.  “You can try,” he said, smiling.  “But it won’t end well for you.”   

Tony shifted uneasily, and Barry noted with satisfaction that he didn’t seem quite as sure about the outcome of the fight as he had before.  A less confident opponent would be more likely to make careless mistakes, and those mistakes would only make his life easier. 

Of course, the fight was still very much stacked against him.  He had Iris to worry about as well as himself, and he couldn’t shrug off hits the way that Tony could.  His healing factor didn’t grant him anything in the way of additional endurance.  Caution would be key. 

Barry rushed Tony without any warning, and managed to land a glancing blow to his torso before the other metahuman could react.  He slipped beneath Tony’s return punch, a wild haymaker, and couldn’t resist giving his ass a kick as he danced backwards out of range.  “Too slow!” 

Tony roared in frustration, and Barry saw the metallic sheen spread down the back of his neck and beneath the collar of his tank top.  Barry gritted his teeth in frustration.  So Tony hadn’t been completely armored – he’d been treating the fight like a joke, and now that Barry had toyed with him a bit, he was choosing to see him as an actual threat.  _You could have actually done some damage if you hadn’t wasted your energy trying to mess with his head, you idiot,_ he berated himself. 

Distracted by self-recrimination, he was a hair too slow to react when Tony’s punch left him open on his right side.  He managed to land a glancing hit, but Tony caught him on the backswing, carrying him off his feet and slamming him into the lockers.  “Looks like you were born to take a beating, Flash,” he said with an ugly sneer. 

Barry pushed himself to his feet.  “Fuck you,” he retorted before darting in for another flurry of punches.  It was almost too easy to hit the slower metahuman, but the impacts were barely doing any damage against Tony’s metal skin, and if this continued Barry was liable to break his own hands.  He briefly entertained a ludicrous image of himself trying to _kick_ Tony into submission – then a misjudged swing of Woodward’s fist crashed into his ribs, knocking the air out of him and sending him tumbling to the ground. 

Barry rolled out of the path of Tony’s descending fist, and grimaced when he felt his ribs twinge.  He’d taken too much damage in the early portion of the fight, and had failed to act quickly enough to land a decisive blow before Tony was able to armor up.  It would be an uphill battle to take him down now – better to grab Iris and get away. 

The thought of letting Tony go rankled at him, a fundamental injustice – he deserved to be taken in and made to do his time, and the risk that he could come after Iris again in the future was unacceptable.  But he couldn’t take him down like this.  Fighting was all about physics, and in a space like this – confined, with little room to maneuver – size and strength would win out against speed. 

Then his brain made the connection between kinetic energy and momentum, velocity and force, and he remembered what Cisco had told him in the upstairs lab back at the CCPD.  Eight-hundred and thirty-seven miles per hour. 

“Guys, I’m gonna do it,” he said into his comm, then turned and fled the building. 

As he raced through the city, far enough away to get a straight shot, he forced himself out of the instinctive panicked headspace that he wanted to retreat to and into the cool clarity that had helped him back at the bombing site.  He was going to have to push himself faster than he ever had, and he needed to be able to think. 

He skidded to a stop in the middle of a deserted street, sparks flying off the pavement, and he took a deep breath.  “You said eight-hundred-thirty-seven miles per hour, Cisco?” 

“Barry, it’s not that simple,” Caitlin cut in.  “You have to hit Woodward at the exact right speed, at the exact right angle of impact, or you’ll shatter every bone in your body.” 

Barry winced at the thought, remembering his bruised ribs – but that didn’t change what he needed to do.  “I have to beat him this time, guys,” he said, swallowing.  “It’s for Iris.  Dr. Wells, what do you think?” 

“I think,” Dr. Wells said slowly, “that up until this moment, you have shown yourself to be every bit as fast as you needed to be.  If you know that this is what you need to do, I am confident that you will succeed.” 

It wasn’t a ringing endorsement by any means – but Dr. Wells’ faith in him, however misplaced it seemed sometimes, was enough to soothe the last of the anxious tremors from Barry’s hands.  “Okay.  Here goes.” 

Barry broke into a run, easily attaining his usual cruising speed, and Cisco let out a whoop.  “Go, man, go!”   

Barry pushed himself to run faster than he’d ever gone, and he felt it the instant that things changed.  It was like stepping onto a moving walkway at the airport, as if there was some force around him giving an extra nudge to each step he took.  For a flicker of a second, Barry sensed innumerable paths and possibilities laid out before him, ready and able to take him anywhere he wanted – but the only path that mattered was the one that lay forward, to where Iris and Tony were, and the fight that he needed to win. 

There was a brief resistance, a scrabble for control, and then he was through, blasting down Main Street with the wind screaming at his back.  A part of him noticed the pressure wave in front of him and the sound of shattering windows, but it was lost in a wave of excitement as he registered that he was doing this, it was really happening – he was running faster than the speed of sound, covering the distance he’d run to get away from the elementary school in almost half the time it had taken before. 

In the last split seconds before impact, Barry took in the scene – Tony turning at the sound of his approach, Iris pressed safely against a far-away locker – and jumped, throwing all of his mass and momentum into a punch that traveled straight from fist to elbow to shoulder. 

The blow hit Tony in the jaw with a crack of sound and force.  Barry felt the bones in his hand give out under the impact, and bit back a scream at the sudden, blinding pain before he hit the ground, hard.  Tony was down too, groaning on the ground and struggling to rise, and for a wild minute Barry actually contemplated trying to kick him in the head because at this rate Tony would be up before him and that wouldn’t work _at all_. 

But then Iris solved his problem for him, slugging Tony across the jaw with a punch that dropped him like a stone. 

Barry scooted over to his best friend’s side as she slid down the wall, her jaw clenched as she cradled her right hand in her left.  “Nice cross,” he said, grinning in spite of the pain, because it was over and she was _safe_. 

“Not too bad yourself,” Iris said, grinning back at him briefly before she grimaced.  “I think I broke my hand, though.” 

“Yeah – I definitely broke mine,” Barry groaned.  “But I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

Iris bit her lip.  “Barry, I’m sorry.  I should have at least listened when you warned me about the dangers.” 

“So am I,” said Barry.  “I don’t know why I thought giving you the cold shoulder would stop you from running headlong _into_ danger – that’s one thing we have in common.  You’ve never been one to let other people control you.”

Iris rubbed her hand gingerly.  “You know, I’d actually had a thought about a safer way I could share my writing,” she said with a frown. 

_A safer way?_   Barry opened his mouth to ask, but before he could say anything, he caught the faint-but-growing sound of approaching sirens.  They were louder than he expected – it had to be several cars, all converging on their location.  “It’s the Metahuman Taskforce,” he said to Iris, using his good hand to lever himself to his feet.  “I called Snart, told him that you and Tony were here.  I have to go – he can’t see us together, I’ve set things up so you have plausible deniability and you won’t be linked to me.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Iris, holding up a hand.  “How on earth did you manage to convince Detective Snart to work with the Flash?” 

“I’ll tell you about it, I promise,” Barry said, fidgeting as the sirens grew nearer.  “We can grab coffee tomorrow and talk, and I’ll fill you in – but for now, you’re just a blogger who’s talked to the Flash a couple times before.  You don’t know anything about him, and he doesn’t know anything else about you.” 

Iris nodded slowly, and Barry gave her a brief smile before darting out the back of the building.  It wouldn’t do to be caught lingering here.  He’d taken down Woodward, but he didn’t want to answer any of Snart’s questions – especially since he was beginning to suspect that his heroic final charge had caused a lot of property damage in the downtown area. 

As he prepared to run back to STAR Labs, Barry couldn’t help ducking behind a large tree and watching as the Metahuman Taskforce descended on Carmichael Elementary School.  Snart, Joe, and Eddie were in the lead car, and both of them made a beeline straight for Iris.  Snart followed at a slower pace; Barry saw him glance around several times and realized with a jolt that he was looking for the Flash. 

He stayed long enough to watch Joe pull Iris into a tight embrace before he flashed back to STAR Labs.  He’d done his part, and would continue doing it tomorrow when he went back to the CCPD to help process the evidence. 

The Flash had gotten to have his day.  The rest of the cleanup would be up to the real heroes.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter - I'm really excited about the next one and will be getting it out as soon as I can, but my classes have started back up again and as the semester progresses I will gradually be engulfed in responsibilities again. Alas. 
> 
> Many thanks for the comments I got on the last chapter. I enjoyed reading them all and will start responding to them tomorrow!


	13. Blood and Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since my last update, but I am back! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it, especially the dialogue at the end, but it was definitely a challenge in spots. Also, since it's NaNoWriMo, I am setting aside a bit more time to write than I've been able to in the past. Hopefully that will result in faster updates! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter! They kept me plugging away at this chapter whenever I had a break from my coursework. I'm looking forward to replying to them all. :D

“You didn’t order your usual,” said Iris, frowning when Barry returned to the table with a gigantic to-go cup of peppermint hot chocolate. 

“Iris, I don’t have a usual,” Barry said before taking a sip of his drink and thoroughly burning the tip of his tongue.  Thank god for the fringe benefits of super-healing.  “Besides, they have the seasonal menu now!  _Peppermint hot chocolate,_ Iris!” 

“Okay, I’ll let you have that,” said Iris with an indulgent smile.  “But only because you saved my ass last night.” 

Barry held up a hand, grinning.  “Nope, no way – you were totally the one who knocked him out, which, by the way, saved _my_ ass, so don’t you go giving me all the credit!”  He was probably talking too loud – they were in a public place, after all – but it was just so _nice_ to have Iris back. 

Iris rolled her eyes.  “Fine, I will take the credit for the knockout punch.”  Her expression sobered slightly.  “But what you did was still heroic.” 

Barry shifted in his seat.  “I took the risk because it was _you_ ,” he said, feeling his cheeks flush slightly.  “Conning Snart to keep my identity a secret – I really don’t want to have to resort to something like that again.”

“Maybe you won’t have to,” Iris countered.  “He might decide you’re trustworthy.  He did seem impressed that you managed to take Tony down.  Apparently he’s given Snart, Eddie, _and_ my dad the slip more than once.”

“Was he still impressed once he found out that the Flash broke every window in the Main Street shopping district when he broke the sound barrier?” Barry said, raising one eyebrow. 

Iris’ lips twitched.  “That did dampen his enthusiasm a bit.  But I don’t think he’d arrest you on sight, if that helps.” 

Barry considered.  “It actually does help, a little.”  He wasn’t about to replace every broken window on Main Street, but he could probably speed his way through repainting some storefronts in order to gain back a little extra goodwill.  “But seriously – enough about me.  You said you had an idea about how to make writing your blog safer?” 

Iris smiled nervously.  “It isn’t about the blog as much as it’s about an interview I have next week.  I submitted a resume and some writing samples to CCPN, and they said they were interested.  It’s obviously too soon to call anything, but working for a newspaper would give me a bigger network and more protection than freelance blogging.” 

“Iris, that’s – wow,” said Barry, his jaw dropping.  “That’s amazing! Are you happy about it though?” he said, a sudden doubt flickering through his mind.  “Last I heard, you thought your journalism class was boring.  Do you really want to make it a career?” 

Iris tilted her head, then her eyes widened in understanding.  “Barry, I promise this isn’t just about you,” she said.  “I know I told you that I wanted to use my writing to help keep you in the public’s good graces, but the more I’ve thought about it the more I feel like this could be a really amazing thing.  You aren’t the only metahuman I’ve written about, and telling people’s stories, putting the word out there about the good things happening in this city even in the middle of all this uncertainty?  It’s a way I can help people, and that feels _good.”_

Barry mirrored her smile, unable to help it – she was right, after all.  Helping people did feel good.  And as long as she wasn’t jeopardizing her own happiness to protect his safety, he was happy for her to be trying something new. 

Now that he was able to relax and be a bit more objective about Iris’ news, he couldn’t decide whether he was surprised or not.  He definitely hadn’t been expecting his best friend to tell him that she’d decided to consider a full-blown career in journalism.  But the more he thought about it, the more the role seemed to suit her – she was good at reading people and spotting lies, and she knew how to collaborate with others.  Plus, Iris kicked too much ass to continue working at Jitters forever. 

Of course, he realized, fighting to contain a sudden grin, that meant that Iris would be sticking her nose in around crime scenes.  Joe was absolutely going to blow a gasket when he heard about _this._ “How long do you think it’ll take them to get back to you after the interview?” 

“I’m not sure” said Iris.  “A week, maybe?  But then I’d be putting in my two weeks’ notice here,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, “which is honestly a strange thing to be thinking about.” 

“Don’t worry – we can still bring Team Flash here for drinks,” said Barry, smiling.  “But seriously – this is really cool, Iris.  If you get the job, I’m behind you one hundred percent.” 

Iris blinked rapidly and nodded before picking up her drink and taking a long swig.  “Thanks, Barry, really.  I’m glad you want to support me, given what happened last time.” 

“Last time I was an asshole,” Barry countered.  “Okay, fine – we were _both_ assholes,” he amended when Iris shot him a look.  “But I should have known better than to try and stop you from doing something you had your mind set on.  Plus we dealt with Tony and we both came out of it okay, which actually makes me feel better now that I’m thinking about it.  You’ll always keep your head and kick major ass, and I’ll always show up for you when you need me.” 

Iris laughed.  “It’s a deal, Flash – as long as you promise to be on time.” 

“Scout’s honor,” said Barry immediately.  Because, fighting and metahumans aside, this was _Iris._ There was no one more worth being on time for. 

“Alright now, enough about me for a bit,” Iris said, placing her drink back on the table.  “You have got to tell me about your big rescue.  You said you _conned_ Leonard Snart?” 

“I had to make it look good!” Barry protested, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.  “I couldn’t help the police find Tony by doing my science thing, so I needed to be out there looking on foot.  And it would be too suspicious if the Flash just happened to show up and contact the CCPD as soon as I learned you were missing.” 

“So what, you got Snart to tell the Flash that I was missing?” Iris said, raising an eyebrow.  “Even though you claim this guy doesn’t trust the Flash as far as he can throw him?” 

“I didn’t have a ton of time to come up with alternatives,” said Barry, fidgeting.  “And even though we obviously don’t see eye to eye on everything, for whatever reason, Snart is still someone I feel like I can trust.” 

Iris nodded slowly.  “I’m glad.  And you know, I think he trusts you too.” 

“It’s weird, but he does.  Did I tell you he gave the Flash his cell phone number?” 

Iris’ jaw dropped.  “Barry Allen.  You had better tell me every pertinent detail immediately.” 

As he continued explaining his con to Iris – who was an attentive listener, exclaiming over all the right details and sparing him any admonishments, at least for the time being – Barry couldn’t help but take in the scene and smile.  It had taken a steel-plated sociopath and a bunch of reckless decisions to get to this point, but he had Iris back, and that made all the risk worth it.

* * *

Woodward glared at Len from his side of the table.  “You think these cuffs are gonna hold me?” he said.  “I could rip through these like paper.” 

“You could,” Len agreed, not stirring an inch from his standing position by the wall.  It was his preferred tactic for dealing with overconfident perps.  Act like you had the upper hand, and nine times out of ten they would respect that.  “But you wouldn’t make it out of the building, and attempting to escape would only add time to your sentence.” 

Woodward gritted his teeth.  “So that’s how they run stuff at the CCPD, huh?” he said.  “Just because you’re a mutie too, you get to play judge, jury, and executioner?” 

“A bit melodramatic, Woodward,” Len said, ignoring the derogatory slang.  “Iron Heights will take good care of you.  They’re equipped for people like you, you realize.” 

“You’re a traitor to your own kind,” Woodward snapped, and Len forced himself not to roll his eyes.  “Does it ever keep you up at night?  That you put metas behind bars when it could just as easily have been you in my shoes?  We aren’t that different.” 

Len shook his head.  “What we have in common is an accident.  What we chose to do with our powers has nothing to do with how we got them, and everything to do with who we are.”

“Why are you even bothering with this?” Woodward said, resting a clenched fist on the table.  “I’m not confessing to shit.  You’d have to beat it out of me.  Not gonna make your lives any easier.” 

“You realize that confessing to the charges might earn you a more lenient sentence,” Len said, unperturbed.  He hadn’t expected Woodward to act in his own best interests, but extending the option was relatively routine. 

“Don’t care,” Woodward said, shaking his head.  “If you guys want anything, you’re gonna have to work for it.  Pass that along to those lab rats of yours.” 

“This case is open and shut,” said Len, shaking his head.  “Allen will have what we need in no time.” 

Woodward’s sneer froze on his face.  “Allen?” he said.  “It isn’t… Fuck, your lab rat isn’t Barry Allen, is it?” 

Len looked at him quizzically.  “It is, actually.  Why, do you know him?” 

“Shit,” Woodward breathed, his face going pale.  “I thought I saw him watching me from that room upstairs, but I wasn’t sure.  You don’t understand, man,” he said, looking Len directly in the eye.  “Allen went to my high school.  He has it out for me.  I’ll talk, alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know about the charges.  But you have to transfer my file to someone else.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Len slowly.  He felt a cold finger of unease trail its way down his spine and took a deep breath, making sure his powers were under control, but his mind continued to race.  What could Barry Allen possibly have done to scare someone like Tony Woodward back in high school?  And why was Woodward afraid of him even now? 

Len wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was going to have to find out. 

“I know another CSI who can take over your case file,” he continued, making a mental note to buy his sister lunch as an apology for adding to her workload.  “But before I transfer you, I need to know why.  What has Barry Allen done to you?” 

He watched Woodward’s reaction closely, and felt another prickle of discomfort at the way the young man’s shoulders relaxed in obvious and unconcealed relief.  “Sure, man.  Whatever you want to know,” Woodward said. 

Len sat down at the metal table and rested a hand on the pleasantly cool surface.  “Good.  Fill me in.” 

A long half-hour later, Len stepped into Barry’s lab, rapping his knuckles against the doorframe as he entered. 

There was a rattle of wheels, and Barry appeared from behind a shelf, seated in a swivel chair.  “Hey, Snart!  I wasn’t sure you’d be in,” he said with a grin.  “Heard you had a busy night.”    

“Wanted to talk to Woodward,” said Len, allowing his eyes to flick over Barry’s open smile.  There wasn’t a hint of guile in that face, and for a moment Len couldn’t help wishing that Woodward’s story hadn’t sounded even remotely plausible. 

Barry nodded.  “Yeah, that makes sense.  I got coffee with Iris this morning – things are finally cool with us, so that’s nice.  She convinced me to take tomorrow off, I’m going to take some family time for once and visit my foster mom.  But I’m going to make sure I get through Tony’s case file first.” 

“No need,” said Len, his voice coming out darker than he’d intended.  Barry’s casual familiarity with Woodward should have been his first clue that something was up, but he hadn’t noticed.  What else had slipped by him while he’d been complacently enjoying the younger man’s company?  “I’m transferring the case over to Lisa.” 

“Transferring – why?”  Barry’s smile dimmed slightly, and Len sighed inwardly at the kid’s hurt expression.  For a brief moment, he almost contemplated keeping Woodward’s accusations to himself.  But no.  Barry deserved to know what was being said about him, and to be able to defend himself if Woodward’s claims proved baseless. 

“Some of Woodward’s testimony has led me to believe that the two of you have a history,” Len said, and his heart sank when Barry went still.  “He claims you went to high school together.”

Barry nodded slowly.  “That’s true.  But that doesn’t mean you have to take me off the case.” 

Len shook his head.  “Woodward specifically requested that you not be involved in his prosecution.  Given what he told me about your history with each other, I’m inclined to believe this is best.” 

“Okay, wait a second – you asked a criminal about our shared history, and then just decided to believe whatever he said?  Why didn’t you talk to me?”  Barry sounded hurt.  But it wasn’t like Len could tell Barry that up until now he’d considered the CSI to be honest and unworthy of suspicion. 

He decided to avoid the question.  “That’s what I’m doing now.  I realize this may seem unfair, but Tony Woodward is afraid of you.  And if what he says about your high school drug-busting crusade is true, there’s clearly a conflict of interest in this investigation.” 

“This is so wrong.  Did you just call me reporting unauthorized possession and sale of prescription painkillers a _drug-busting crusade?”_ Barry said, his jaw dropping incredulously.  “What Tony’s friends were doing was against the law and was putting people in danger!” 

 “You aren’t denying that you did it.” 

Barry scowled.  “Of course not.  What’s the point?  You already asked the suspect and seemed perfectly happy with _his_ testimony.” 

“I don’t expect a suspect to give me an unbiased account,” said Len, taking a deep breath and forcing his powers to remain tamped down in the face of Barry’s unexpected hostility.  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear it from you.” 

Barry huffed.  “Well it sounds like he basically gave you the scoop.  Tony was on the high school wrestling team, and a lot of his posse played school sports too – which meant a lot of injuries.  And the matching surgeries, of course.  Torn ACL, fractured kneecap, any number of things.” 

“Of course.”  Len nodded. 

“Which,” said Barry, ignoring the interjection, “meant plenty of prescription painkillers floating around in the hands of cash-strapped teenagers lacking in common sense.  They started selling them to anyone who could afford it.” 

“And you decided to break up the ring,” Len said, nodding slowly. 

But Barry shook his head.  “Not right away.  These guys were nasty, and they were friends with a lot of the faculty.  I was waiting for the right time.”  His gaze hardened.  “But then Iris ended up getting involved, and the ringleaders found out.  They threatened her – so during the fall pep rally, I broke into all their lockers and found every bit of incriminating evidence I could get my hands on.  I didn’t plant _anything,_ but I made sure it was all in plain view – I used gloves and moved stuff around in the lockers, put the client lists where they’d be found, that sort of thing.  Then I called the police.” 

Len nodded slowly.  “But Woodward said he left the gym and caught you searching his things.  But you made a deal.” 

“His silence, and a promise to leave me and Iris alone, in exchange for two hours to get the drugs out of his locker and only his,” Barry said firmly.  “It was better than he deserved, not that it mattered.  He ended up dropping out anyway.” 

“Except that isn’t all you told him,” said Len, feeling suddenly cold at the unexpected steel in Barry’s eyes.  “You said that if he ever threatened Iris again, you would find a way to make him pay for it.  And you would do it _personally_.” 

Len expected Barry to wilt in acknowledgement, or at least look somewhat contrite, so he wasn’t prepared when the CSI glared back at him in defiance.  “Are you _serious_ right now?  Grudge or not, what exactly would my own personal crusade for justice accomplish in this case?  We have Tony up on _ironclad charges_.  Grand theft auto, breaking and entering, robbery, vandalism, aggravated assault, kidnapping,” he said, counting off each charge on his fingers before standing and pacing across the lab.  “He is going to Iron Heights for a long time, and if you think that I’m about to jeopardize our entire case against a very dangerous metahuman for the sake of a high school grudge, then you don’t know me at _all_.” 

“You’re angry, and that’s fair,” said Len, temporizing.  It had been weeks since he’d seen Barry this agitated, and he couldn’t help the alarm bells that were going off in his head.  “And you’re right.  There’s still plenty that we don’t know about each other.”

Barry snorted.  “So that’s why you’ve decided that instead of trusting me to not do anything stupid, you’ve already decided that it’s better to be cautious.” 

“Yes.”  Barry stilled at the sound of his flat, one-word answer, and Len couldn’t help offering one last conciliatory statement.  As much as Barry’s history had surprised him, he and the CSI were still on the same team, after all.  “If we’re going to make sure that Woodward stays behind bars, we have to do this the right way.  The legal way.” 

Barry smiled at him mirthlessly, and it was like a shutter closing over his entire face.  “You know, you weren’t so high and mighty when you spent all of yesterday afternoon tracking down and recruiting vigilantes to help rescue civilians.  If you don’t need anything from me, I’m going to get back to work on my other cases.  Turns out I really need that day off.” 

The CSI breezed past Len, his shoulders stiff, and vanished out the doors of the lab. 

Len took a deep breath and resisted the urge to rub his forehead with chilled fingers.  He was going to have one hell of a headache when this day was over. 

He approached Barry’s desk, feeling oddly cautious about being in the CSI’s workspace without him present.  The Woodward file was open; Barry had clearly been in the middle of working on it.  A few pages of notes were visible, covered in Barry’s untidy scrawl.  Len was able to make out a few lines – _Origin story involved molten steel, possibly cutaneous absorption?_   _Keystone Ironworks – possible hideout? –_ before huffing out a breath and closing the folder. 

He heard quiet footsteps behind him, heels clicking against hardwood in a familiar cadence.  “I’m afraid I have extra work for you, sis,” he said to Lisa without turning around. 

“I was wondering if that was the case,” said Lisa.  “Barry sent me up here as he was leaving, said you had something for me.  He looked kind of upset.” 

“He wasn’t happy that I ordered him off the Woodward case.”

Lisa’s eyebrows rose.  “You took him off the case?  Is it because Iris was involved?” 

“No,” Len said, inwardly cursing himself.  Of course the Woodward case would have been personal for Barry.  Borderline-delinquent behavior in high school aside, Len had known how worried and angry Barry had been about Iris’ kidnapping.  The case should never have ended up in his stack regardless.  “Woodward requested his case be handled by someone else as part of a plea bargain.  He was worried that Allen would try to implicate him in additional crimes as revenge for kidnapping Iris.” 

“Barry wouldn’t,” said Lisa, frowning.  “Even if he was furious, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to tamper with evidence.  Unless,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Len thoughtfully, “Woodward said something to make you think that’s exactly what he might do.” 

Len sighed and began to lay out an abbreviated version of what Woodward had told him, and what Barry had corroborated.  His sister’s eyebrows rose fractionally as he went on, until they were in danger of disappearing into her hairline altogether. 

“Wow,” she said slowly when Len stopped talking.  “That’s heavy stuff.  You confronted him about it, I’m guessing.” 

“Of course,” said Len.  “I wasn’t about to risk him mishandling this case.”

Lisa nodded slowly.  “You were doing your job, Lenny.  And you did have reason to worry.  But I want to know – do you really believe that he would have tried to tamper with the evidence?”

Len looked out the large back window of the lab.  “No,” he said, his eyes roving over the Central City skyline.  

“But you weren’t sure,” Lisa pressed.  “Is that what this is about?”

Len took a deep breath and refocused his attention on his sister.  “I’m good at reading people,” he said simply.  “My first instinct was that Barry had the potential to be dangerous.  But I thought I was wrong.” 

“You weren’t the only one who was wrong,” Lisa said with a flicker of a grin.  “He had me convinced with that puppy dog routine of his.  But he’s not the only one who would do anything to protect his sister,” she said with a significant look at Len. 

Len frowned.  “Lisa-”

“Don’t you ‘Lisa’ me,” she said, poking him in the chest with one finger.  “We’ve been thinking of Barry as some kind of harmless pet – and I say _we_ because we _both_ have been doing it.  But you can’t pretend for a second that you wouldn’t have tampered with some lockers in high school if I had been in trouble, so don’t go pinning all of this on him.  You’re more alike than you want to admit.” 

Len looked back out the window.  There was no point in arguing with Lisa when they both knew she had a point.  “Doesn’t mean I’m letting him keep the case.” 

“Oh, absolutely not,” said Lisa, scooping up the case file in one hand.  “Barry will get nowhere near this one - I’ll make sure this gets processed.  But in the meantime, when Barry comes back from his day off and has calmed down, you two need to talk about this.  I’m not about to let a good thing between the two of you get wrecked by miscommunication and petty sniping.  Not if I can help it.”   

Despite the lingering tenseness in the air, Len couldn’t help giving his sister a tiny smile.  “You know how to cheer a guy up, don’t you, Lise.” 

“It’s called tough love, Lenny,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder.  “And we both know I learned it from you.”     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title this time comes from one of my favorite frequently-misused expressions. "Blood is thicker than water" refers to, supposedly, the fact that familial bonds are stronger and more important than those you form with friends, but the original proverb actually reads "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb." In this context the expression means exactly the opposite - blood ties aren't all-important, and found families can be just as valid and important as birth ones. Given all the found families in The Flash, and the high density of sibling and adoptive-sibling relationships in this chapter, it just seemed to fit.


	14. Flight Risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, and now that the holidays are over I can finally take a breather. The end of the semester was stressful but I'm through it now! Thank you to everyone who commented on Chapter 13 - I loved all the feedback on Len and Barry's fight and the reasons behind it. I will be replying to all those reviews after I eat dinner. 
> 
> On this chapter, I'm going to try responding to reviews differently. Instead of responding to them once the next chapter is posted, I'll reply as I get them. It seems like it will be more fun, and it might motivate me to write faster! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for sticking with this fic, you are such a fun group of readers and I love you all. :)

After getting some fresh air and firing off a few quick texts to Iris, Barry crept back into the station and scanned the second floor for any unwanted visitors.  Thankfully, the landing looked empty – it was possible that Snart could still be in the lab somewhere, but it was more likely that the detective had opted to take the case files to Lisa as fast as possible. 

Barry was definitely glad that he’d ended up leaving the Flash suit at STAR Labs yesterday.  The last thing he needed was Snart deciding to search his lab for incriminating evidence, since apparently Barry was no longer considered trustworthy –

Barry took in a long breath and let it out slowly as he climbed the stairs.  He would dwell on this for exactly as long as it took him to collect his things and leave the police station, then he would force the entire thing out of his mind until after he’d visited Clarissa.  Between Martin’s disappearance – _not_ death, since he had never been found – and Barry’s own coma, recovery, and subsequent emotional distance, his foster mom had enough on her plate without Barry adding his friendship dilemmas to the mix. 

He grabbed his messenger bag and crammed his laptop inside.  The problem, he reflected, wasn’t that Snart had asked Tony questions about high school.  The problem was definitely not that Tony had ratted him out – it was only to be expected now that he was in custody, and Barry frankly should have considered the possibility.  Of course, it had been monumentally stupid of his elementary school nemesis to indirectly implicate himself as a suspect in a decade-old drug trafficking case, but Barry couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. 

The problem wasn’t even that Snart had found out about one of the more legally- and morally-dubious parts of his childhood.  It wasn’t _ideal,_ he thought with a grimace as he folded his laptop charger into his bag, but he’d built enough groundwork with the metahuman detective that he was relatively sure their working relationship would recover.

No – the problem was that Snart had decided to question Barry’s reliability because of something that had happened _nearly a decade ago._ Out of all the suspicious and morally-questionable things he could have called Barry out for, it had to be something that was, first of all, ancient history at this point, and secondly, none of Leonard Snart’s _goddamned business_. 

He grabbed a few tangentially-relevant files off of his desk and placed them in the messenger bag’s outer pocket.  Of course, Snart had a point.  Barry probably shouldn’t have done anything to the case and pointed out a potential conflict of interest, but he’d been kind of busy saving his best friend.  The fact that he hadn’t been planning to tamper with the case file in any way didn’t mean that his participation wasn’t some sort of protocol violation, and because of that alone he was going to have to apologize. 

Not today he wouldn’t, though.  Some of his actions may have been in the wrong, but Snart’s choice to go digging into Barry’s past had constituted a breach of trust.  Barry would give himself time to process that and work through his own feelings before he saw Snart again. 

Then he would apologize. 

Visiting Clarissa was starting to seem like an even better idea than it had when Iris had suggested it after their session of coffee and catch-up.  He didn’t want to worry his foster mom when she was still clearly grieving for Martin, but he hadn’t been around much since he’d woken up from the coma.  She would want to catch up – and knowing her, she would probably wonder why he’d chosen to show up for a visit in the middle of the day, when he was usually working. 

Barry jogged down the stairs with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and as he rounded the corner he nearly collided with Joe.  “Uh – hey!” Barry said, grinning while he forced himself not to jump out of his skin at the detective’s sudden presence.  “I’m leaving early today – if Iris comes by looking for me, can you let her know that I went to visit Clarissa?” 

“Sure,” said Joe, looking briefly taken aback.  “Are you… gonna need a ride?” 

“No, it’s fine – I’ll catch an Uber,” said Barry quickly.  “It’s not peak time so it should be reasonable.  Unless… there was something you needed from me before I left?” he added hesitantly.  Joe was looking at him with a distinctly odd expression on his face, and Barry wasn’t sure he liked it. 

“No,” Joe said with a jerk of his head.  “I had a question, but it can wait.  Have a good visit with Clarissa.” 

“I will,” said Barry.  He gave the detective a tiny, awkward nod of his own before turning away from him and walking quickly out the door of the precinct. 

Without his speed, it would have been a long trip to the suburb where Clarissa lived.  She and Martin had moved after Barry had gone to college, selling their comfortable brownstone and moving into a new home located in a development on the edge of the city.  Barry had visited the new place a few times before he’d ended up in the coma; it was a bigger house than the one he’d lived in since he was thirteen, with a wraparound porch and two floors.  One of the spare bedrooms upstairs had been converted into a guest bedroom, but between his old job in Starling City, the coma, and settling into his new life as the Flash, he hadn’t gotten the chance to stay there for more than a couple of nights. 

He’d have to take the opportunity to remedy that, he thought with a guilty grimace.  Clarissa had been busy since the particle accelerator explosion, throwing herself into volunteer work to help other affected families.  There was no one better for the job, Barry reflected as he skidded to a stop next to the stone gatepost that marked the property line.  Clarissa was legendarily compassionate and giving – and with two family members’ lives on the line because of the disaster, she had understood the pain of the afflicted better than most. 

Barry knocked on the front door, and was finally able to smile at the sight of Clarissa’s face.   
“Barry,” she said, giving him a loose but warm hug.  “I’m glad you were able to come over.” 

“Me too,” said Barry honestly, stepping through the door and into the open foyer.  “Work was hectic – I needed a break.  Running by here seemed like a good way to pass the time.” 

Clarissa raised her eyebrows.  “Please tell me you don’t make those sorts of superpower-related puns when you’re on the job,” she said, opening the refrigerator and pouring Barry a tall glass of water from the Brita filter.  “Frankly I’m amazed you’ve been able to keep your identity any sort of secret, the way you tend to zip about these days.” 

Barry rolled his eyes good-naturedly and accepted the glass, taking a long sip.  Cisco’s calorie bars helped with the hunger pangs, but Barry still needed plenty to drink when he was running.  “Okay, I could probably stand to be a bit more careful, but I don’t use my speed _all_ the time.  Just when I’m in a real hurry.”  Clarissa’s lips twitched.  “I always make sure there’s no one around, I swear.  Besides, I’m not even the worst one when it comes to superpower puns,” Barry added, but then he started thinking about Snart and the grin on his face faded slightly.” 

Clarissa noticed, and her smile turned sympathetic.  “I can tell there’s something on your mind.  Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There’s not really much to say,” Barry said with a sigh, placing his glass of water on the counter.  “I got into an argument with a coworker, a friend.  He pulled me off a case because he found out about the big drug bust that I orchestrated when I was in high school.” 

“And you didn’t like that,” Clarissa guessed.  Barry nodded.  “Well do you think your coworker was out of line?” 

Barry shook his head.  “No – I shouldn’t have involved myself with the case in the first place, once I realized I had prior connections to the suspect.  But this guy’s a metahuman now – do you remember Tony Woodward?” 

“Of course I remember him,” Clarissa said, her lip curling minutely.  Barry fought to hold in a smile.  “He picked on you all throughout school, you and Iris both.  Martin used to psychoanalyze him at the dinner table.” 

“Martin was probably right about Tony’s crush on Iris, at least,” Barry said, grimacing in distaste.  “Anyway – Tony’s a meta now, and the Flash had to take him down.  So I wanted to make extra sure his case went through and Tony got sent to Iron Heights.  But Snart found out that Tony used to be my nemesis, and said he was worried that I might tamper with the case files.” 

Clarissa frowned.  “That’s absurd,” she said, giving her head a tiny dismissive shake, and Barry felt a tiny bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders at the way his foster mom had immediately discounted the possibility.  She, at least, knew that he’d never risk it.  “Who are they putting on the case instead?  Is the other CSI competent?” 

“She’s competent – she’s my boss and she’s good at her job,” Barry said.  “There won’t be any problems getting the case pushed through, and there’s definitely enough to get him convicted.” 

“But I’m guessing you wanted to see this through yourself?” Clarissa prompted.  Barry looked away from her and studied the pattern of the china plates in the cabinet, feeling exposed and not wanting to give anything else away.  Only Iris and his dad had ever been able to read him as well as Clarissa, but when she did it, it felt so much more… _maternal._  

“Hey,” Clarissa said quietly.  “If you don’t want to talk about it any more, we don’t have to.  After all, I’m still looking forward to hearing more about what you’ve been doing with your superpowers.” 

Barry looked back at Clarissa.  She was giving him a tiny, but genuine, smile, and with relief he took advantage of the out.  “It’s been incredible.  I’m getting even faster, I broke the sound barrier last night.”

“And Dr. Wells and your friends have still been helping you master your powers?” Clarissa prompted, and Barry nodded.  “That’s good.  I’m looking forward to talking with them again during the holidays.  Will you be bringing them by?” 

Barry bit his lip at the thinly-veiled question.  “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said honestly.  “I’ll invite them all – even Dr. Wells.” 

“Good.  I’ll need a crowd to help me eat the latkes,” Clarissa said with a small smile.  “Martin may not have been particularly religious, but he always did enjoy the traditional Hanukkah food.” 

Barry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  He debated telling Clarissa what he suspected, that the military was interested in Martin’s research and that Martin was still out there somewhere, but in the space of two seconds he decided against it.  Getting his foster mom’s hopes up over circumstantial evidence when he didn’t have any concrete facts to offer would only be cruel.  Once he knew more – that’s when he would tell her. 

He sighed inwardly and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  So this meant he’d be investigating the military now.  Fantastic.  Dr. Wells was going to kill him when he found about this. 

Barry stayed at Clarissa’s until it started to get dark, taking advantage of the extra time and the relatively stress-free atmosphere to get caught up with his foster mom.  On his way out the door, he hugged her and made a mental note to get Clarissa and Iris in touch if Iris got her job at Central City Picture News.  Between her sleuthing and Clarissa’s volunteer work, the two of them would be a force to be reckoned with if they got on the scent of any metahuman-related stories. 

“I probably won’t be around until the holidays,” Barry said apologetically as he hugged Clarissa goodbye.  “Things at work are busy, and I’m helping out with more and more around the city.  But I’ll stay in touch.” 

“That’s all I can ask,” Clarissa said before kissing him on the forehead.  “Take care of yourself out there, Barr.” 

“I will!” 

Barry decided to take the long route back to STAR Labs, partially to avoid running through the snarled-up downtown traffic but mostly so he could enjoy stretching his legs.  He decided to run by the part of town where he’d first used his powers to save a life – pulling Iris out of the way of a stolen armored car felt like so long ago, but if he hadn’t had his super-speed, they both might have been killed that day. 

But his trip down memory lane was interrupted when he noticed the three young men gathered under the bridge.  One of them, an unkempt-looking man with long hair and tattered clothes, was cornered against one of the supports, visibly curling away from the other two.  Barry paused momentarily to get a better look – and his eyes widened when he realized that one of the two was holding a knife. 

He skidded to a stop, sparks flying from his shoes.  “Hey!”

The two men spun away from the cowering figure; the one holding the knife brandished it at Barry threateningly.  “Where’d you come from, kid?” he said.  “Didn’t anyone tell you not to wander around under bridges at night?” 

“I could say the same to you,” said Barry, taking several steps closer.  After a moment of concentration, he began to vibrate his face – if he was going to confront what were probably two muggers without his suit, he couldn’t risk them seeing what he looked like.  “What are you doing to that man?” 

“None of your business,” said the second man.  “If I were you, I’d beat it.” 

He reached into his pocket, and Barry decided he was done letting the situation escalate.  He blurred into action, sweeping both men off their feet.  They slammed into the asphalt with pained groans and lay there, conscious but making no move to get up. 

Barry fished methodically through their pockets, swiping two knives and a few wallets – almost certainly stolen earlier in the evening – before approaching the man by the bridge.  Up close, he looked even more unkempt than he had at first glance; Barry was almost certain that he was homeless.  “Are you okay?” he said, doing his best to make his vibrating voice sound nonthreatening.  The man backed away from him, shaking his head, and he reluctantly returned to his normal speaking voice, although he continued to keep his face obscured.  “Those men over there,” he said, trying again, “did they hurt you?” 

The homeless man stopped and uncurled his posture slightly.  “Your voice,” he muttered, shaking his head before looking up at Barry with piercing grey eyes.  “I know you.” 

“I’m sorry – I don’t know who you are,” said Barry apologetically.  “Are you hurt?  Do you need help?” 

The man shook his head again.  “Not safe.  I’m not safe.  Don’t want to hurt you.”  He started to back away again, wringing his hands together.  “Please, you have to leave!” 

Barry opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, the homeless man burst into flames. 

Barry leapt back in shock, looking around frantically for something he could use to douse the fire.  Smothering it with dirt would work, but not fast enough to save the man’s life – except, he realized as he was about to start running, he didn’t seem to be hurt, or even surprised.  His clothes weren’t even on fire. 

“You’re a metahuman,” Barry said, approaching the homeless man cautiously with his hands raised in a pacifying gesture.  “I can see that now.  Can you tell me your name?” 

“I don’t know it,” said the man, staring at Barry in what looked like anguish.  Up close, Barry could see that his eyes were no longer grey – they had turned a flat white, without irises or pupils.  “I don’t know who I am anymore.” 

“Okay,” said Barry, temporizing.  “Do you know what happened to you?  You were affected by the particle accelerator explosion.  You must have had an accident.  Do you remember how you were hurt?” 

The man nodded slowly, looking straight into Barry’s face.  “Firestorm.” 

Barry’s entire world stopped.  _Firestorm._ This was the metahuman that Snart’s friend Mick had been mistaken for.  The man that Eiling was hunting.  The man who might know something about what had happened to his foster father. 

The sound of police sirens rose faintly through the air, distant and remaining distant – probably a dispatch headed to elsewhere in the city – but the noise snapped the burning man out of his trance.  He shook his head and turned away from Barry, running toward the other side of the bridge, his burning hands trailing fire behind him. 

“Wait!” Barry called, jogging after him.  “You can’t go!” 

“Have to,” the burning man – _Firestorm_ – grunted.  “It’s not safe.” 

“I can help you!” Barry said, reaching out a hand toward his shoulder, heedless of the risk.  “I might know what happened to you!” 

But the man shot twin blasts of flames at the asphalt, and Barry was forced to recoil as the burning jets of energy lifted him into the air.  “I’m not safe,” he said, hovering overhead.  “You need to stay away from me.” 

And before Barry could argue, could beg the other man to come back, Firestorm flew away, trailing two fiery contrails behind him until he disappeared into the night.   


	15. Time Flies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update! This chapter was interesting to write, but I'm really happy with how it came out. Thanks to xerospark for beta-reading this chapter for me! 
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter - your reviews all made me smile and I had a great time replying to them. I hope you enjoy the update!

If Barry had thought that he would have been able to sleep, he wouldn’t have gone back to STAR Labs that night.  He would have run straight back to Caitlin’s house, laid down on the sofa, and tried his best to forget about meeting – and losing – Firestorm until the following morning. 

But Barry knew a lost cause when he saw one, and he needed to pick up his suit from the lab anyway. 

The fact that it was nighttime didn’t occur to Barry until he was already inside the building.  He hadn’t thought it would matter.  His all-access key would get him through STAR Labs’ security, flimsy though it was, no matter the time of day, so it wasn’t like he needed Caitlin or Cisco around to let him in. 

Still, he thought as he walked cautiously through the tangle of hallways that led to the Cortex, some company would have been nice.  He’d never been in STAR Labs alone after dark, and something about the place gave him the creeps. 

The Cortex’s assortment of screens and monitors hummed quietly, emitting a blue glow that was enough to light all but the edges of the room.  Barry moved toward the alcove that housed the Flash suit and was about to touch the red tripolymer when a quiet voice spoke behind him. 

“You’re out late.” 

The hairs on the back of Barry’s neck stood on end; he spun on his heel and was halfway out the door before he realized that it was Dr. Wells who had spoken.  He stopped running and turned toward the side office, where his mentor was watching him with his head tilted slightly to one side.  “Dr. Wells,” Barry said.  “You’re here late.  Where are Cisco and Caitlin?” 

“They went home for the night,” said Dr. Wells, still studying him.  He wheeled closer.  “I would have expected you to have gone home as well.  Did you have a nice visit with Clarissa?” 

“What – oh, yeah, it was nice,” Barry said.  “I just came by to pick up the suit, in case I needed it tomorrow.  Did Cisco end up doing the repairs?” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “He finished them this evening.  The suit should be none the worse for wear from your encounter with Mr. Woodward.”  He fell silent and stared at Barry for a few seconds longer than was probably necessary.  “Are you alright, Mr. Allen?  You seem shaken.” 

“Um,” said Barry, shifting his weight onto his other foot.  “I’m fine.  I’m just – thinking about some stuff.” 

“You smell like smoke,” Dr. Wells said, his piercing blue eyes fixed unerringly on Barry’s face.  “Your eyebrows appear slightly singed.  Did you have a cooking accident at Clarissa’s?” 

Barry shifted again, uncertain.  There was something about the way Dr. Wells was pressuring him to speak that he didn’t like – but he’d been planning on telling his team about his encounter with the burning man tomorrow anyway, so there was no point in hiding anything.  “I met a metahuman on the way here.  He didn’t know who he was, but he could light himself on fire without burning up.  He said his name was Firestorm.” 

Dr. Wells’ eyebrows rose.  “Firestorm.  Do you think he’s connected to your foster father’s research?” 

“I’m not sure,” said Barry, his mouth dry.  “But it’s possible.  He might know something.  And I think General Eiling is interested in him too.  The last time he was in Central City, Eiling went after another metahuman that he mistook for Firestorm.” 

“So you want to find this Firestorm first,” Dr. Wells said, nodding slowly.  “I must say, Barry, that’s very heroic of you.” 

Barry stared at his mentor, nonplussed.  Where was the anger he’d been expecting?  Dr. Wells seemed too calm, like he’d anticipated Barry doing something this reckless and stupid.  “Are you making fun of me?” he said hesitantly.” 

Dr. Wells’ lips twitched.  “No, Barry.  I’m not making fun of you.”

“Okay.  Because I’m not interested in doing this for the sake of being a hero – I’m doing it because my foster dad might be in trouble and this person might know something that can help him.” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “Be that as it may, you’re still placing the interests of another person over your own safety.”  He looked at Barry over the rims of his glasses, his eyes suddenly steely.  “But it’s my job to ensure that _you_ are safe.  Investigating General Eiling is not safe.  He is a dangerous man, Barry.” 

Barry’s stomach sank.  _There_ was the reaction he’d been expecting.  He’d known that there was no way Dr. Wells would ever go for this idea, and the longer he stood here and listened, the more he regretted bringing it up.  “You might have a point, but I’m not just going to sit around and do nothing, regardless of the danger,” Barry said, shaking his head.  “I’m no hero, but if you don’t think I’ll do what I can to protect the people I care about, you don’t know me at all.” 

For a split second, Dr. Wells’ eyes narrowed slightly.  Then, to Barry’s confusion, he nodded.  “No, Mr. Allen, you’re quite right – I’ve seen your dedication to the ones you love firsthand.  But do try to consider how those people might feel if they knew you’d put yourself in harm’s way for their sakes.  I’m not saying that you should do nothing,” he said, raising a hand to forestall Barry’s protests.  “Only that you should be cautious.  We are your team, Barry.  In order for us to help you, you need to communicate with us.  Openness and honesty are crucial.” 

Barry nodded quickly.  “I know that, Dr. Wells.  And I _will_ communicate.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still have to do this.”

His mentor nodded again, slower this time, his expression inscrutable.  “Then we’ll do everything we can to support you.  Now get your suit, and go home.  You need your rest.” 

Dr. Wells turned and wheeled back into the office, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief before grabbing his suit off the mannequin and bundling it into his duffel bag. 

He left STAR Labs even more quickly than he’d arrived, and hoped that by the time he reached Caitlin’s apartment he would be calm enough to sleep. 

* * *

“Alright, let me make sure I’ve got this,” Cisco said in Barry’s ear.  “You met a homeless man under a bridge last night who was definitely a metahuman, could light himself on fire, and had no memory of what happened to him the night of the explosion.” 

“When you put it like that, it sounds like there’s not much to go on,” said Barry with a grimace, tapping one finger anxiously against the back of his phone case. 

“Hey.  There’s definitely some good info in the story you gave me,” said Cisco, his voice immediately shifting to sound more reassuring.  Barry couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved that his friend cared or guilty that he’d found it necessary to comfort him.  “Not a lot to go on, but we’ve worked with less before.  Do Caitlin and Dr. Wells know yet?” 

“I ran into Dr. Wells last night when I went by STAR Labs,” Barry admitted, grimacing.  “I told him about Firestorm but he wasn’t happy.  He doesn’t want me investigating the military.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure this stays locked down tight,” Cisco reassured him.  “The military won’t know we’re investigating.  I’ll look into setting up something that can monitor military broadcast frequencies.  If Eiling ever comes back to town, maybe he’ll turn up more intel on your mystery man.” 

Barry nodded.  “Okay.  And I’ll tell Iris about this guy.  She blogs about metahumans, so she might hear something from the public that we wouldn’t.  Then we won’t have to wait around on the military – we can just go find him ourselves.  I’ll make sure she knows not to just run around asking questions about him though.” 

“Soon she might be able to do that just fine.  She’s got that interview with Picture News, right?” Cisco said.  “If you see her before I do, which you probably will, tell her that I said good luck.  She’d make a kickass reporter.” 

“I’ll tell her,” Barry said, grinning briefly as the last of his anxiety about his conversation with Dr. Wells faded away.  “I’ve gotta go though, I’m late for work and I don’t want to talk about metas in the middle of the police station.” 

Cisco snorted.  “Probably a good idea.  I’ll talk to you later tonight.” 

Barry hung up the phone and rubbed the back of his neck as he walked into the police station.  Now that his worries about Firestorm had been mostly resolved, his previous source of anxiety – the fight he’d had with Snart two days previously – was rapidly rising to the forefront of his consciousness.  Grimly, he resolved to get the inevitable confrontation over with before he could stew in his own worry all day.  That way, there was less of a chance of Snart catching him unawares – and he wouldn’t look like he was trying to avoid the detective either. 

The ground-floor lobby was mostly empty, but there were three people waiting by the elevator doors.  Two officers, neither of whom Barry recognized, were flanking a shorter man in a tan jacket with a shock of untidy brown hair.  The man’s hands were behind his back; Barry looked closer and saw that he was cuffed. 

Barry approached the group cautiously, and one of the officers nodded at him with a quick smile.  “Allen.  You’ll have to wait for the next one, I’m afraid.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Barry said, nodding back and feeling a bit guiltier about not knowing the officer’s name after the friendly greeting.  “Prison transfer?” 

“An irregular one,” grumbled the other cop.  “William Tockman.   He’s a transfer from Starling City.  Was supposed to come in this afternoon but there was traffic.” 

Barry nodded.  “Yeah, it’s a long drive from Starling even without the rush hour.  Bad timing?” 

“Timing is always the crux, isn’t it,” said Tockman, turning with apparent difficulty to look over his shoulder.  Barry was startled by the man’s glasses – with their small lenses and gear-like embellishments, they looked like something out of a steampunk convention.  The eyes behind the glasses were piercing, and they settled on Barry’s left hand rather than meeting his own.  “That’s a quality timepiece.” 

Barry glanced reflexively down at his watch – a gift from his dad – and resisted the urge to shield it from Tockman’s gaze.  “Thanks.” 

The elevator dinged, and without further preamble the officers steered Tockman inside.  The balding man’s stare remained fixed on Barry until the doors had slid shut. 

Barry grimaced.  _On second thought, I’ll take the stairs._

It took only a small burst of super-speed to beat the elevator to the second floor, a use of his powers that would definitely be worth it if it kept Barry from having to make any more small talk with Tockman.  The extra deterrent propelled him even more quickly toward Snart’s office than he would have moved otherwise.  There would be no foot-dragging today. 

Belatedly, Barry realized that he had no idea what he was going to say.  He needed to apologize for breaching the usual CSI protocols, and for being a bit of a dick, but he couldn’t just roll over and let Snart think it was okay to pry into his past without his consent.  Somehow, he was going to have to make that clear without sounding like an asshole. 

Maybe Snart would beat him to the punch with his own apology.  Barry could only hope. 

Barry hurried across the floor of the CCPD toward Snart’s desk, forcing himself to place one foot in front of the other.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joe make a move toward him, and let out a sigh of relief when he seemed to think better of it and returned to his desk.  Now that he was on the move, Barry didn’t want to stop and lose his momentum – it wouldn’t be as easy to head toward an anticipated and nerve-wracking confrontation again if something interrupted him. 

Barry’s stomach lurched when he rounded the corner and saw Snart at his desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked on something.  _Shit, shit.  Okay, you can do this,_ he said to himself forcefully, drawing in a deep breath.  _You’re both civilized adults – it’ll be fine._  

The sound of his approach was enough to get Snart’s attention – the detective looked up from his work with a distracted “Hmm?” but when his blue eyes came to rest on Barry, they widened slightly in surprise.  “Barry.  I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” 

“It’s nighttime,” Barry blurted out, then winced.  “I mean – it’s not that soon.  And it’s been more than twenty-four hours,” he said, playing nervously with the hem of his sweater.  “I figured it was time for me to come back and face the music.  Get some work done.”  

Snart nodded slowly.  “You picked a good time.  I was about to take some evidence up to your lab.  Mind giving me a hand?” 

There was something disarming about the level way that Snart was looking at him, like there was more to his question than his words had implied.  _His eyes really are blue_ , Barry thought before catching himself.  “Uh – yeah, sure.” 

Snart rose from his desk and pushed in his chair before picking up a stack of papers.  He handed half of them to Barry, who took a second to glance at the stack before realizing that he was holding a pile of invoices.  “These aren’t for a case,” he blurted out. 

Snart’s lips twitched, and he leaned in slightly towards Barry.  “Lots of ears here,” he said quietly. 

 _Ears?_ Barry thought in confusion.  But now that Snart mentioned it, he could feel curious stares on his back – belatedly, Barry realized that their conversation had become the subject of interest of every detective in earshot.  He saw Joe watching the two of them from his desk, and felt his ears turn red.  “Oh.  Right,” he said, feeling slow and stupid.  “Yeah, I’ll give you a hand.” 

As they climbed the stairs to Barry’s lab, Barry belatedly realized that choosing a location out of earshot of the other detectives also meant that he and Snart would be having this conversation _alone_. 

He couldn’t decide whether the sudden kick in his heart rate was due to nerves or excitement. 

 When they reached the lab, Snart leaned against one of the desks, his posture loose and at ease.  He didn’t look angry, and that alone was enough to allow Barry to relax slightly.  “First thing’s first, Barry,” he said.  “I wanted to apologize for making assumptions.  What Woodward told me surprised me.  I have… difficulty adapting at times, when my way of seeing the world is challenged.”

“I wouldn’t have tampered with the case file just because it was Woodward’s,” Barry said quickly.  “I promise – I know how important this job is.  But I wanted to apologize too.  For yelling,” he added, meeting Snart’s eyes for as long as he could manage.  “I said some things that weren’t very nice, and you were just doing your job.” 

Snart’s mouth twitched, the tiniest hint of a smile.  “Two apologies, both sincere,” he hummed, “and all over a well-intentioned miscommunication.  I think this means that both of us need to _chill out_.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “You just made a cold pun,” he said, torn between feeling horrified and oddly delighted.  “In the middle of a serious conversation.” 

“Puns are no laughing matter,” Snart said, and his smile widened slightly.  This time it reached his eyes, and without even thinking about it Barry found himself smiling and leaning back against the desk too.  The tense awkwardness seemed to have passed, and even though the speed of the turnaround confused him a bit, Barry didn’t doubt that Snart’s apology had been sincere.  “I’ll make sure I pay more attention to my caseload,” Barry said, and he meant it.  “But next time you want to know something about me, ask me instead.” 

Snart nodded.  “That’s fair.  For what it’s worth, I’ve always found that actions speak louder than words, Barry.  And I know you’re a good man.” 

Barry swallowed.  _A good man_ – he doubted Snart would be saying that if he knew that Barry spent most of his nights moonlighting as the Flash.  “Thanks.  That – means a lot, coming from you.” 

A stilted silence fell, and Snart stared at Barry for a little too long before breaking eye contact to look out the window.  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you something.  Two days ago, I said there was still a lot that we didn’t know about each other.  Can you tell me why you decided to become a CSI?” 

Barry blinked.  “Um.  It seemed like the thing to do,” he said, scuffing the sole of his shoe across the floor.  “I studied chemistry and physics in college, but I didn’t want to do research – I wanted to be out there, seeing things.  I moved to Starling City for a few years and ended up working as a CSI there, and it just… fit,” he said, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.  “It’s an important job – sometimes science is all you can trust to make sure you catch the right man.”  _Or don’t incarcerate the wrong one,_ Barry thought but didn’t say. 

Luckily, Snart didn’t ask him more about his time in Starling City – he just nodded slowly.  “Reminds me of me and my sister.  Our dad was a cop,” he said, turning to look back at Barry.  “A bad one.  A part of me grew up hating the law.  All those cops around the house, and not one of them ever thought to ask about Lisa or me.”  He met Barry’s eyes.  “But we decided we could do better.  Change the system, from the inside.”

“Even though the system hurt you,” Barry said, tilting his head. 

Snart nodded, his pale eyes boring into Barry’s like lasers.  “Sometimes the people hurt by the system are the ones best suited to change it.” 

Barry’s heart stuttered, and he swallowed.  He could relate.  God, there was so much he’d left out of his own story – all the shit with his dad, how the CCPD had gotten the wrong man, how the jury had only taken twenty-two minutes to decide on a verdict, how he’d been pitched into the system and left all alone.  Being a CSI gave him something to do with his time, a way to use his brain and his skills so that the system didn’t hurt anyone else the way it had hurt him.  But he hadn’t said any of that.  He’d minced words and then Snart had been so _honest,_ why couldn’t he just _say something –_

Fortunately, before Barry could do something stupid, like tell Snart his entire life story, there was a loud explosion downstairs. 

“Shit,” Snart muttered, his head turning in the direction of the balcony, and just like that the world started moving again.  Instead of Barry’s complete social ineptitude, there was now a real disaster to focus on – Barry would have been relieved, if there wasn’t currently a cloud of smoke rising from the middle of the precinct’s main floor. 

Some of the smoke was already curling through the open door of the lab; Barry took a deep sniff, then frowned.  “It doesn’t smell like something’s burning.” 

Snart nodded.  “I agree.  Definitely chemical.  Some kind of smoke bomb,” he added, but the sound of gunshots cut him off. 

Barry flinched and ducked behind a shelf at the sound, even though there were no shooters in sight.  “What’s going on down there?” 

“Can’t see,” Snart growled.  “Too much smoke.”  The temperature in the room began dropping rapidly; Barry peered around the shelf and saw that Snart’s hands were slowly being crusted over in a layer of ice. 

The shooting stopped, and a familiar voice rise up out of the fog.  “Guns on the floor!”

Barry’s stomach sank.  _Oh fuck._

“It should take you less than three seconds to discard any thought of rebellion and comply,” Tockman continued.  “I take it I don’t need to count out loud?” 

“Barry, stay here,” Snart said, starting for the door as the sound of another gunshot rang out. 

“What – no way!” Barry stepped out from behind the shelf and moved toward Snart, ignoring the detective’s glare.  “You may be a meta and an experienced cop, but you’re not _bulletproof.”_

“That’s true,” Snart said, his icy blue eyes fixed on Barry as if he thought he could pin the CSI to the floor with a look alone.  “But this is my _job._ This is a hostage situation, and you are a CSI.  You aren’t trained for this.”  He shook his head and turned away.  “Just – wait, and listen.” 

Barry gritted his teeth, but he complied.  He _wasn’t_ useless – in fact, he could end this hostage situation before Snart could so much as blink.  But that would mean outing himself to the Flash’s best frenemy, not to mention every other detective, cop, and intern in the precinct. 

“Ah, Captain Cold!” Tockman said, his voice sounding even more chipper than it had before.  “How wonderful of you to join us.  Unfortunately for you, I already have your sister, and I’m taking especially good care of her _specifically_ to ensure your compliance.” 

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Barry’s hands clenched into fists – there was no way that Snart would do anything if there was a chance that this lunatic would hurt his sister. 

“You won’t get away with this,” said Iris’ voice from downstairs, and Barry’s heart sank like a stone.  Iris was here?  How was this Barry’s life?  She must have been here to visit Joe or Eddie – what fucking _phenomenal_ bad timing.  “Captain Singh might not be here, but they’ll have this building surrounded in minutes.  You are going back to prison.” 

“On the contrary, my dear,” said Tockman.  “I think you’ll find that the CCPD will be very reluctant to come to grips.  Did you know I used to work for Kord Industries?  That smoke bomb I detonated also contained a micro-EMP of my own invention.  Anything non-analog in this building has been taken out of commission – that includes cell phones, two-way pagers, and walkie-talkies.” 

This was sounding worse and worse – right then, Barry decided that he couldn’t wait any longer.  He edged slowly out of the lab and toward the balcony, trusting the lingering haze in the air and Tockman’s preoccupation with the hostages to give him cover. 

The scene below him turned his stomach inside-out.  Tockman was standing over Lisa and Iris, who had been cuffed together in the middle of a ring of police officers, all of whom had either been similarly subdued or were remaining still because of the threat to the other hostages.  The gun that Tockman was holding looked like a standard-issue police handgun – if the cops at the CCPD used similar weapons as the cops Barry had worked with in Starling City, he was willing to bet that the gun was a Glock 22 pistol.  Barry ran a mental inventory of the past ten minutes and bit his lip.  There had been three shots fired since the beginning of the hostage crisis, but a full clip for a Glock 22 held fifteen bullets.  That was twelve more shots, all of which had the potential to be fatal. 

Two of the shots might have already been fatal – there were two men on the ground, and neither of them were moving.  Barry took a deep breath in and released it slowly, clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms, and determinedly looked away from the fallen officers.  He couldn’t have a panic attack or a flashback now – Iris’ safety depended on him keeping his wits about him, and he couldn’t help anyone if he lost his cool in the middle of a hostage crisis.

At that moment, Iris looked up – and when she saw Barry standing on the balcony, her eyes widened.  Through the remaining smoke, Barry saw her shake her head.  He froze.  Iris didn’t want him to reveal himself – but she, Snart, Lisa, Eddie, _and_ Joe were all down there, taken hostage – two people had already been shot. 

Barry took another deep breath and forced himself to stop and consider his options.  Iris didn’t want him to Flash in and save the day, and a voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Dr. Wells was traitorously pointing out that doing so would hardly be the best course of action to begin with.  His safety depended on staying secret – but he couldn’t be a coward when the people who mattered most to him were in danger, or what would he be good for? 

The beginning seeds of an idea began to bloom in his mind.  Tockman had singled out two hostages already – Iris and Lisa.  Both non-officers, both connected to other people at the precinct.  He’d given them his personal attention to ensure the compliance of the other hostages, and so far it was working – even Snart, who didn’t need a gun, had been forced to stand down once Tockman had trained a weapon on his sister. 

Barry wasn’t as valuable as these other hostages, but Tockman didn’t know that – and he _definitely_ didn’t know that Barry could dodge bullets.  If he couldn’t use his super-speed to save the day, he could at least use it to make himself one hell of a distraction. 

His heart feeling like it was about to beat out of his chest, Barry slowly raised his hands and began the long walk down the stairs.  “Hey there.” 

Tockman whipped around to stare at Barry, and the next thing he knew, Barry was looking down the barrel of a gun.  “Whoa, no need for that,” Barry protested, biting his lip nervously.  Hypothetically, he could outrun a bullet – but that didn’t stop the little babble in the back of his mind, insistently warning him that guns were very, _very_ dangerous.  “I’m coming out, okay?  I just want to talk.” 

Tockman cocked his head, his hand steady on the barrel of the gun.  “And what, pray tell, do you have to talk about, mister…”

“Allen.  My name’s Barry Allen.  You said you liked clocks,” he said, his mouth dry.  “If you agree to release a hostage, would you be interested in borrowing my watch?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I might have ended the chapter on a cliffhanger, but hey! At least there was conflict resolution! :D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	16. The Weekly Crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I did it! My self-appointed goal for today was to finish this chapter in time to post it on March 4th, because as of today, I have officially been writing By Any Other Name for a full year. What better way to celebrate than to save all of you from cliffhanger limbo? I've polished this chapter up as much as my schedule allowed to get it ready for posting today, but it is unbeta'd this time so all mistakes are my own!
> 
> My spring break is coming up and I'm looking forward to the free time, both to write more and to answer all of the wonderful comments I received on the last chapter. I'm lucky to have such great readers and reviewers and you guys always make me smile. 
> 
> Lastly, I just wanted to say thank you. By Any Other Name is by far the largest project I've worked on, for any fandom, and having such great readers has made it a pleasure every step of the way. I love hearing from all of you and knowing that you're enjoying reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. This fic is only about one-third complete, and a lot of the scenes I'm most looking forward to are still to come, but I wouldn't enjoy this AU anywhere near as much if I didn't have such great readers to share it with. <3

A hostage crisis was hardly something to celebrate, but at the sight of Barry Allen descending the stairs, Len rapidly found his day going from bad to worse. 

Barry shouldn’t even have been here.  He should have stayed in the lab like Len had told him, not come sauntering into the line of fire.  He had no combat experience, he was unarmed, and he was making it even harder for Len to do his job.  It was bad enough that Tockman had singled out Lisa without Barry deliberately choosing to make himself a target. 

And Len had no doubt that Barry was acting deliberately.  His shaky confidence and overly-chipper tone of voice were classic hallmarks of fake bravado, which told Len two things.  First, they told him that Barry was scared, and that he was trying to cover it up.  And second, they told him that for some reason Barry had decided that the best way for him to be useful was to turn himself into living target practice for a criminal with a loaded gun and nothing to lose. 

When Barry offered Tockman his watch in exchange for releasing a hostage, Lisa had shot Len an appalled look.  He’d nodded in reply, unable to even find the black humor of the situation enjoyable.  Trying to banter with Tockman would only serve to make him more ill at ease, more likely to pull the trigger.

It was a pity that he and Barry had just made up from their last disagreement.  After watching him pull a stunt like this, Len was going to have no alternative but to sit Barry down and give him a serious lecture about listening to orders and looking out for his own safety.  Barry wouldn’t like it, but he would just have to endure.  He was sure that Lisa and Iris would help him, assuming they all survived. 

Len took a deep breath and forced himself to listen to what Tockman was saying, since by some miracle, he hadn’t actually shot Barry yet. 

“You’re funny, boy.  You think I have a gimmick,” Tockman said with a chuckle.  “I have to hand it to you, if I was a Gotham villain I would find your offer amusing.  Unfortunately, my demands are far more, ah, _practical_.”

“That’s another thing,” Barry said quickly.  “You told everyone that you’d detonated a micro-EMP that fried all the technology in the building.  But that’s not true, is it?  If you’d really set off an EMP the lights would have stopped working.” 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  The kid had a point.  There was no cell service in the building; he had checked.  But Barry was correct in saying that the lights in the station wouldn’t have been working if an EMP had detonated. 

But instead of getting angry that Barry had called his bluff, Tockman _laughed._ “You’re quite the asset to your department, aren’t you, mister Allen?” he said, lowering the gun slightly.  “Overworked and underpaid, I’m sure, like all public servants – it’s a shame how hard it is to find competent help like you on my side of the law.  I’m assuming it’s too late to tempt you over?”    

Len saw Barry’s lips twitch.  “Oh, definitely.  We _are_ in the middle of a hostage crisis.” 

“That’s true.  Well, mister Allen, go have a seat in the middle of the circle,” Tockman said, waving his gun toward Lisa and Iris.  “If it was a release you were angling for, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.  You’re far too knowledgeable to send into the waiting arms of your colleagues outside.” 

“I figured as much,” Barry said, taking a seat next to Iris.  His posture was too nonchalant and unconcerned for Len’s liking.  Either he had no grasp of how dangerous the situation was – unlikely, considering Barry’s natural caution and borderline paranoia – or he had a plan of his own devising. 

Neither one boded well for Len.  How was he supposed to keep the kid alive if he continued making Len’s job so damn _difficult?_  

“But you didn’t answer my question,” said Barry, sending the armed felon an actual _smile._ If you didn’t detonate an EMP, how did you block communications into and out of the building?” 

“You’re very pushy, aren’t you?” Tockman hummed, lowering the gun altogether.  “I had on my person a portable cell phone jammer, as well as several smoke bombs, all set to an automatic timer.  Without the appropriate signal from me – say, for instance, if my hands were cuffed and I was unable to manually enter the code – the devices were programmed to activate and create an appropriate diversion.  Ergo, all radio and cell phone frequencies have been jammed.  Luckily this device will have no effect on cabled technology, so fortunately I will still be able to call your captain and summarize my demands.” 

The smile froze on Barry’s face.  “So you aren’t going to be releasing hostages.” 

Tockman shook his head with a tiny smirk.  “Of course not.  Not when there is no need to do so.”

Tockman turned his back on them to look out the window, and for a heartbeat Len saw Barry’s face slip from nonchalance to barely-suppressed rage.  Len briefly closed his eyes.  Barry’s plan was all too obvious to him now.  Once he’d heard Iris’ voice in the lobby, he had decided to offer himself in exchange for his best friend. 

Len sighed.  He could hardly lecture the kid now, not when he’d inadvertently made the same mistake himself.  The consequences of dealing with a hostage crisis had not been lost on him, and he had been well aware of the possibility that he could be shot.  But a threat to Lisa was more effective than any handcuffs.

Between his little spat with Eiling and his increasingly-public bouts with the Flash and other metahumans, it seemed that Len had begun to acquire a reputation.  Enough of a reputation now that criminals who knew they would had to deal with him had, apparently, begun including knowledge of his personal life into their calculations. 

Once they managed to extricate themselves from this hostage crisis, Len resolved, he and Lisa would begin rectifying this new problem _immediately._ He would need to talk to Mick as well, find out if anyone had attempted to target him since Eiling had left town.  Nobody was going to use his loved ones against him again, not on his watch.    

For now, though, he needed to focus on the situation at hand.  Len took a quick mental head count of the officers present in the circle of hostages.  Detectives West and Thawne were both present and accounted for, along with Carmichael, Mullins, Vulkovitch, and a few younger cops who, Len guiltily realized, he did not know the names of.  There were also several interns, and, of course, Lisa, Barry, and Iris.  None of them appeared injured, but Len had heard the sound of a weapon being discharged.  There had been three shots, and for the officers on the ground floor to have complied so readily, he had to assume that at least one shot had found its intended target. 

Frowning, Len leaned back and looked toward the window.  Tockman’s guards had been stationed there, both officers from Starling City.  Len didn’t see either of them now, but he did see one pale, limp hand extending from behind the cluster of desks.  He swallowed and turned away from the sight. 

_Concentrate,_ he told himself firmly.  _Reframe, refocus_.  Len didn’t just have his sister to look out for; he now had Barry as well.  Lisa was tough, but Barry was still a relative unknown, and Len had good reason to be concerned about the CSI’s ability to handle this kind of pressure.  Now that he was in the middle of the circle, Barry seemed torn as to what to do.  From the conflicted look on his face, Len guessed that he was torn between comforting Iris and downplaying their relationship in order to ensure her safety.  In the end, it seemed the need for reassurance won out.  Len saw Barry scoot back slightly, leaning against Iris so that his shoulder was just touching hers. 

Len’s eyebrows rose slightly at the sight.  He’d never seen Barry initiate contact with another person before, and something about it was… oddly endearing. 

In the time it had taken Len to do his assessment, Tockman had moved away from the group of hostages and borrowed a phone from one of the officers’ desks.  Len could only assume he was calling through to an outside line, most likely to make his demands.  Len overheard a request for a helicopter and a Chinese takeout meal, and he grimaced.  It seemed that Captain Singh wouldn’t be able to enjoy the nice dinner that Rob had been secretly planning for his night off.  Instead he’d be down at the station, cleaning up their mess. 

“Wait a second – you can fly a helicopter?” said Barry from the center of the circle of hostages. 

Len closed his eyes briefly.  _Speaking of messes._  

“Why do you ask, mister Allen?” Tockman said, rapping his fingers against the desk.  “Are you planning to offer me your skills as a pilot in exchange for your freedom?” 

Barry snorted.  “Nope.  I can’t fly anything.  I’m just surprised you know how.  I didn’t think your criminal agenda left time for flying lessons.” 

A muscle tightened involuntarily in Len’s jaw.  Why was Barry so hell-bent on antagonizing the person holding them hostage?  If his master plan was to rescue them by absorbing the remaining bullets in Tockman’s pistol, Len would recommend him to the captain for extended medical leave _himself._  

But Tockman seemed more amused by Barry’s outburst than anything.  “I already told you, young man.  I am not a Gotham villain, buoyed by comic-book costumes and a delusional sense of superiority.  No, my sole interest lies in removing myself from police custody and living out what time I have left according to my own terms.” 

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” said Detective West.  “Your file says you have MacGregor’s.  You realize that in prison, you’ll receive medical treatment.”

“And to what end?”  Tockman paced toward West, the gun lowered at his side.  “So that I can live a prolonged life in prison?  No thank you, Detective.” 

Barry leaned away from Iris slightly before looking up at Tockman.  “The money you took.  On your heists in Starling City.  It was to pay for your medical expenses, wasn’t it?” 

Tockman turned on Barry with his eyes narrowed, and for a chilling second, Len thought the CSI had finally gone too far.  But the criminal shook his head.  “No.  It was to pay for my sister’s.  Cystic fibrosis.”

Barry’s mouth turned down at the corners.  “I’m sorry.” 

On the other side of the circle, Detective West shifted in his sitting position.  “If you end this now, I’ll talk to the DA.  Let the civilians go and it’s possible that she will be willing to negotiate your sentence.  No one else has to die tonight,” he finished, his eyes resolute.    

Tockman shook his head and looked away, staring out at the city skyline, and whatever faint hope Len had begun to hold that the situation could be salvaged faded away.  “It was your district attorney who denied me furlough to visit my sister when she lay dying in hospice, say goodbye to her in person.  That’s time I’ll never get back,” he said with a sigh.  “So thank you for your – _touching_ – words, gentlemen, but there will be no quarter here.  However long I have left in this life, I promise not one second more will be spent in a prison cell. "

* * *

The throb of a helicopter from overhead gradually pulled Len from his exhausted stupor.  So they’d done it, then.  Tockman was going to escape, at least for now. 

It galled Len, to think that a routine transfer had gone so badly wrong.  Two men were dead, and Tockman was about to escape.  The almost-certainty of his eventual capture did nothing to ease the burden Len felt.  Even though he knew these things happened, and that not every outcome could be foreseen, he still felt responsible.  He was supposed to protect people – all people, yes, but especially _his_ people.  And tonight, he had failed. 

His attention was diverted back to the situation at hand when Tockman stepped into the circle and grabbed Iris’ arm, roughly hoisting her to her feet.  “Up you get.” 

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?”  Barry started up after her, but froze when Tockman pointed the barrel of the gun at his head. 

Detective West also rose onto his knees, his “Tockman, please, don’t do this.  If you need a hostage, take me instead.” 

Tockman chuckled.  “Something tells me that you would not be such a docile captive, Detective.” 

“Neither will she,” said Barry.  His eyes were fixed nervously on the barrel of the gun, but his voice didn’t waver.  “She’s been studying self-defense since she was six – take it from someone who knows, she can kick serious ass.  You’d be better off with me as your insurance.  I actually work here.” 

Tockman’s mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile.  “And yet, mister Allen, I find it doubtful that you would so willingly give yourself up for this young woman if you were as concerned for your safety as you ought to be.  Sit down, young man, or I will shoot you.” 

Barry nodded and sank back down to the ground, slowly. 

And then, before Len could process what was happening, the CSI launched himself at Tockman and Iris, colliding with the older man’s legs and sending all three of them sprawling to the floor. 

Len scrambled to his feet, his heart in his throat as Barry and Tockman grappled for the gun.  The other detectives were lurching into action as well; West and Thawne pulled Iris free of the chaos just as Barry managed to gain the upper hand and pin Tockman to the floor. 

“Got you,” he panted, his face flushed with triumph.  “You’re going back to prison.” 

“I think not,” said Tockman, and Len saw his fingers close around the barrel of the gun. 

Time stopped – and then, everything seemed to happen at once. 

A shot rang out.  Barry screamed and dropped Tockman, rolling over on his side, his hands moving to clutch his leg. 

And Len’s ice bolt slammed into Tockman’s hand, encasing both it and the weapon in a thick layer of ice. 

“That’s quite enough out of you,” Len said, freezing both of Tockman’s boots to the ground for good measure.  Let’s see him try to run now.  “Carmichael, Mullins, cuff him.  Lisa,” he said, turning to his sister, “see what you can do about getting word to the outside.  I’m going to help Barry.” 

Lisa nodded and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.  “On it.” 

Len took a deep breath and approached the injured CSI, who had curled into a fetal position and was clamping both hands tightly around his calf.  Len noticed some blood leaking from between Barry’s fingers, but the injury didn’t look as bad as he’d feared. 

Barry looked up and groaned when he saw Len approaching.  “Oh god.  Please don’t lecture me.  I know that was stupid but I couldn’t let him take Iris.” 

Now that he was reasonably sure that Barry would live, Len felt a tiny smile forming at the corners of his mouth.  “Not here to lecture you, Barry.  Just want to make sure you’re okay after that stunt you pulled.” 

“Stunt,” Barry said with a huff.  “That’s a pretty good word for it.”  He attempted to change positions, only to collapse back down on the ground with a hiss.  “Fuck fuck fuck.  There’s a hole in my jeans now too, dammit.  These are my favorite pants.” 

“You’re lucky he didn’t hit your femoral artery,” Len deadpanned, shaking his head.  Frankly, the damn kid was lucky he’d survived that shot at all.  At point-blank range, Tockman could easily have killed him.  What he’d done to protect Iris had been brave, but also suicidally stupid.  “Now stop squirming and let me take a look.” 

Barry’s forehead furrowed and he shifted away from Len.  “Do you have to?” he said, his eyes wide.  “It hurts, but really – it’s not that bad.  I think it just grazed me.  Look, the bleeding’s already starting to slow down.” 

Len shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter, Barry.  You need to get it looked at before the EMTs get here.  If you don’t want me to do it, you can ask someone else, but you need to receive medical attention.” 

“I promise it’s not you,” said Barry with a sheepish grin.  “I just really don’t want – wait, did you say EMTs?!”

“Yep,” said Len, giving Lisa a meaningful look.  His sister grinned and pulled out her cell phone.  “Lisa’s calling them right now.” 

“Shit,” Barry breathed, his face going as white as a sheet.  “This is bad.  I can’t go to the hospital.” 

Len closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “You were shot in the leg, Barry.  A few inches higher and the bullet could have nicked your femoral artery, and then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.  Because you’d be dead,” he added for extra emphasis, just in case the CSI hadn’t yet grasped the reality of his narrow miss.   

Barry grimaced.  “Yeah, I know.  It’s just – hospitals are bad for me.  I don’t suppose there’s any way I could possibly get out of this?” 

Len shook his head.  “Not a chance, kid.  You want to play hero, you have to accept the consequences of your actions.” 

For some reason that got a laugh out of Barry.  “Playing hero,” he said, his mouth twisting oddly.  “Who would have thought?  Alright, you win, I’ll let them look at me.  But can you just – send Iris over here?  I need to talk to her.”

Len nodded.  “I think that can be arranged.” 

He rose to his feet and, after saying a few words to Iris with a meaningful nod in Barry’s direction, stopped to survey the station.  Night was beginning to fall, and the tense air of the hostage crisis was also starting to fade as the officers around him went to work, assessing damage and using the landline phones to make calls to the outside.  Even the junior officers seemed calmer and less shaky with the prospect of something to do, and Len was pleased.  They’d put this behind them, as methodically and courageously as they did everything else, and within a few days none of them would be the worse for wear. 

Len felt a presence at his side and turned his head to see Lisa and Detective West beside him.  “Quick thinking, icing him like you did,” said West, nodding down at where Tockman was sitting, cuffed and leaned against a wall.

Len shook his head.  If he’d managed to end the situation before anyone got hurt, he would have allowed himself to accept some praise.  As it was, the victory felt hollow.  “Anyone in this station would have done the same thing,” he said.  “My only advantage is that I don’t need a gun to make a shot.” 

“And for that we’re grateful,” said Vulkovitch from across the room, sending Len a smile.  “You got us out of a tight spot.  Well, you and Barry.” 

Len looked over to the CSI, who with Iris’ help had managed to struggle into a sitting position.  Some of the color was coming back into his face, and with every minute he looked less like a casualty and more like a young man who, in spite of long odds, had managed to step into a bad situation and make a difference. 

If it wasn’t for the kid’s knack for nearly getting himself killed, Len thought, Barry would make a great cop.  As it was, Len didn’t think his heart could take this kind of excitement on a regular basis, so it was probably for the best that Barry preferred to stay off the front lines. 

“He’s an idiot,” said Lisa, as if she could read Len’s mind.  “Reckless and stupid.  But he’s our idiot,” she said, looking at Len as if daring him to disagree with her. 

And, as odd as it was, Len nodded.  “I know,” he said, because at some point along the way, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on the precise moment when it had happened, it had become true. 


	17. Under The Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update! I had a lot of fun writing this one, but it also got a bit out of hand and it might actually be the longest chapter in this fic so far! I'm not complaining though, some of this material has been a long time coming. I hope you enjoy the update!

“Okay, look,” said Barry, fidgeting uncomfortably as he craned his neck to peer up at Caitlin from the hospital bed.  “I know this is bad, but can we skip the part where you lecture me and go straight to the part where we focus on getting me out of here?”

Caitlin raised her eyebrows.  “I’ve already gotten that bit started,” she said.  “Dr. Wells and I managed to put together sufficient credentials to get me through the front door, and from there I talked my way up here.  From this point on, I am officially your personal physician.” 

Barry grinned – even in the face of Caitlin’s frustration and the looming specter of Dr. Wells’ eventual angry tirade, he couldn’t help it.  He loved it when his team was able to put something clever together at a moment’s notice.  “That’s what you actually are, though,” he teased. 

Caitlin’s answering smile was small, but it was a bit more playful than her previously stern expression.  “Patching up a superhero does not an M.D. make, mister Allen,” she said.  “But it’s a good enough fiction for me to be able to eventually whisk you away.  The key word being _eventually_ ,” she said, poking him in the chest with one finger.  “Now that you’re in the system, there’s paperwork to be processed before you can be transferred, plus your standard discharge protocols.” 

“Red tape.”  Barry grimaced.  “But Caitlin – I can’t wait around here for hours,” he said, something alarming occurring to him.  “What if a nurse walks in here to check on me and sees that my resting heart rate on the monitors is one hundred and forty beats per minute?  It’ll be like when I was in the coma all over again.” 

“You would be right,” Caitlin said with a nod.  “Except Cisco and I figured out how to take care of that.”  She fished in the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a sheet of chunky-looking electrodes.  “Did you ever see Gattaca?” 

“Yeah, in freshman biology class,” Barry said, puzzled.  “Why do you ask?” 

“Cisco wanted to make sure I passed along his movie reference,” Caitlin explained, her lips twitching.  “When the main character had to deceive Gattaca’s fitness tests, he used a patch that had a recording of a healthy athlete’s heart to fool the machines into thinking he was in peak physical condition.  We did the same thing with these,” she said, sticking the first of the electrodes onto Barry’s chest.  Barry made a face at the feel of the cold adhesive, but didn’t complain.  “We recorded a two-minute loop of Cisco’s heart rate while he sat at his desk reading a book.  Once I get these placed and switch the wires from the hospital’s electrodes over to ours, you’ll look like a perfectly normal cardiac patient.  More invasive tests would pose problems, but I should be able to talk the attendings out of performing those until you’re transferred.” 

Barry nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his face.  “You’re a lifesaver, Caitlin.” 

“I do what I can,” Caitlin said with a quick smile.  “But I’m serious,” she said firmly, placing the next electrode with a little more force than was probably necessary.  “If Iris hadn’t been able to get in touch with me so quickly, this situation had the potential to become much worse.” 

Barry sighed.  “I know.  Next time I’ll be more careful.”  This whole thing could have been avoided if he hadn’t been slow and clumsy enough to let himself get shot, after all.  But once the bullet hit, he’d known he was done for.  He knew he couldn’t have flashed out of the room and back to STAR Labs for medical attention with a gunshot wound in his leg and a crowd of onlookers surrounding him.  He’d taken too many pains to protect his secret identity for that. 

But he knew that Caitlin already knew that as well.  It was just her way of looking out for him, to remind him of how important it was that he stay safe.  And she really was being nice about the whole mess – she could have yelled at him, or been mad that he’d interrupted her evening, but instead she had come when he needed her. 

Barry was honestly too relieved and grateful to argue or protest against the slightly-coddling treatment.  Instead he settled back on the bed and cast around for a change of subject while Caitlin placed the last of the electrodes.  “Do you have a rough estimate of how long it’ll take them to get my paperwork processed?” he asked.  “It’s fine if you don’t, I’m just curious.” 

Caitlin nodded, seeming unsurprised by the question.  “Since the CCPD is involved, the whole process has been expedited somewhat,” she explained.  “They should get to your paperwork today, but it still might be a few hours.” 

“It could be worse,” said Barry with only a slight grimace.  Spending a few hours in a hospital bed was inconvenient, but it was far better than being outed as a metahuman vigilante to his coworkers.  As long as nobody noticed that the gunshot wound in his calf had already healed, he’d come out of this situation with his secret identity intact, and that was really the best he could ask for.  “Does Clarissa know yet?” 

“I’m not sure,” Caitlin admitted.  “Iris told me she was coming by soon, and she should know what Clarissa’s heard.” 

“Okay,” Barry said with a nod.  “If Clarissa tries to get in touch with STAR Labs to find out more news, can you fill her in and let her know that I’ll call her once I get out of here?” 

“I’ll do that,” said Caitlin with a tiny nod.  “I’m supposed to go talk to the nurses in a couple of minutes and make sure that they don’t do any of those routine tests, but there’s TV for you to watch until Iris gets here.  Call me if you need anything.” 

“I will,” said Barry.  “And – Caitlin?” 

“Yes?”  She paused in the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Barry swallowed.  “I’m sorry I worried you guys, but you really came through.  And let Cisco know from me that he also kicks serious ass.” 

Caitlin’s answering smile was fonder than the others had been.  “I will.” 

With Caitlin gone, the quiet hospital room became a waiting game.  At first Barry tried to take a nap, but he was still too keyed up from the hostage crisis – and being in a new, unsecure place wasn’t helping matters.  Eventually he gave in and reached for the remote, flipping the television on. 

Of course, the local stations were mainly covering the hostage crisis.  Just Barry’s luck – this wasn’t going to help him at all.  He was able to endure ten minutes or so of the coverage, but when one of the reporters mentioned that they were going to be interviewing cops and military personnel about the hostage situation and the rise of crime in Central City since the accelerator explosion, he gritted his teeth and changed the channel to something more relaxing.  HGTV was mindless, but Barry would rather watch first-time home buyers bicker over whether or not they needed a three-car garage than sit through anything relating to police business. 

There was a gentle rap on the door, and Barry looked away from the television.  “Come in,” he said, swallowing nervously and turning the screen off.

He relaxed somewhat when Iris stepped through the door – only to have his heart rate skyrocket when Joe West followed her inside.  “Uh,” he said eloquently, blinking through the confusion.  “Hey, Iris!  And Joe, hi, how are you?” 

“About as well as can be expected,” Joe said.  He still looked shaken, and that more than anything finally drove home what a close call the hostage crisis had been, for everyone.  Barry shivered.  He’d be fine in a matter of hours, if he had to guess, but a shot to the calf had the potential to be a career-ending injury for a cop.  If Barry hadn’t taken that bullet, who else might have been shot in his place?

“How soon will you be back on your feet?” Joe asked when the silence dragged on.  “Have they been able to tell you anything?” 

“It’s too early to say for sure,” said Barry with a shake of his head.  It wasn’t even a lie – Barry had never been shot before, so he had no real way of estimating how long it would take the shallow, itching wound to heal.  “But it shouldn’t be too long before I’m back to running around.” 

Joe nodded.  “That’s good to hear.” 

The awkward silence returned.  Barry looked past Joe to where Iris was hovering, her forehead wrinkled with obvious worry.  “Iris?” he asked.  “What about you – are you hanging in there?” 

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice wavering in a way that set alarm bells ringing in Barry’s head because that?  That was not the sound of a person who was fine. 

She bit her lip and looked at him with anxious eyes.  “Barry – he knows.” 

Time slowed to a crawl.  There was only one secret that Barry and Iris shared that would have made her so nervous, and somehow Joe had figured it out.  Barry forced himself to breathe and focus on the scene in front of him.  “What do you mean, he knows?” 

Joe sighed, and Barry was suddenly grateful for the bugged heart monitor – he could feel his pulse beginning to skyrocket, and he didn’t want Joe or Iris to see.  Joe locked eyes with him, and his gaze was – tired.  “Barry, I know you’re the Flash.” 

Barry felt every muscle in his body tense involuntarily.  If not for the still-healing wound in his thigh, he’d have been halfway to STAR Labs before Joe could so much as blink.  As it was, dragging himself out of the hospital on his hands and knees would have been preferable to actually having this conversation – but Caitlin would kill him for it, and Joe would have his suspicions confirmed regardless. 

Since he couldn’t run for his life, Barry gave Joe his sunniest smile.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Joe shook his head – clearly Barry wasn’t going to get lucky in a lie today.  “You woke up from a nine-month coma the same week that the Flash started running around the city,” he said slowly.  “You start working at the CCPD, the Flash starts helping out on metahuman cases.  And when you found out that Woodward had Iris, the Flash showed up to help her.” 

 _Shit shit shit._ Of course Joe had picked up on the Flash’s unusual sympathy for Iris.  “He wasn’t at the precinct during the shooting,” Barry said nonetheless, because he might as well try to salvage whatever plausible deniability he could. 

“But _you_ were,” Joe said, and for a second Barry could have sworn he was – smiling?  “And you did exactly what the Flash would have done, and jumped in the way.” 

“Dad, quit freaking him out,” Iris said, interrupting.  “You _aren’t turning him in,_ so let him breathe.” 

Joe had the decency to look slightly chagrined.  “I should have led with that,” he acknowledged.  “I’m not going to turn you in, Barry,” he said, holding up a hand to cut off Barry’s protest.  “I just wanted to talk to you about this.  _Alone_ ,” he added with a significant glance at Iris. 

Iris didn’t move.  “Anything you have to say to Barry you can say in front of me.” 

Barry took a deep breath and tried to control his racing heart.  “Iris.  It’s okay,” he said, before turning to look at Joe.  “I’ll talk to you about it,” he said.  “But there are some things that I want to say too.” 

For a second, Joe looked nervous – then the moment passed, and he nodded.  “That’s only fair.” 

Iris pressed her lips together in a thin line, but she nodded as well.  “I’ll be in the hall.” 

“First thing’s first,” said Barry once the door swung shut, his heart in his throat.  “I’ll tell you about how I got my powers, but you have to promise me to leave Iris _alone_ about this.  I told her about my powers because she’s my friend and I trust her, not because I wanted her to be in harm’s way.”

Joe looked frustrated.  “Barry, this isn’t what I wanted to talk about.” 

“Yeah, well it needs to be said.”  Now that he was warmed to his topic, Barry was hardly going to stop talking – not when Joe had probably given Iris the third degree already about keeping his powers a secret from her dad.  “I’m not going to stop telling Iris about what’s going on in my life, and I’m definitely not going to coddle her in the name of keeping her safe!”

“Alright, fine,” Joe said flatly.  “If you really want to argue about this again, fine.  I do _not_ like that Iris has ended up involved with this.  And if I thought that there was anything I could do to stop you both, I’d do it.”

This wasn’t going in the direction Barry had expected.  He’d thought that Joe would be furious with him, but instead he looked almost _resigned_.  “You sound like you aren’t going to try and stop us,” he said slowly.  “You’ve already made up your mind?”

Joe sighed and ran a hand over his hair.  “You sound just like Iris,” he said with a sad smile.  “This isn’t like last time.  Iris has already made it clear that she’s not going to stop what she’s doing, and I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t get between the two of you when you’re bound and determined to do something.  But Barry, this isn’t like the police academy,” he continued, and Barry’s stomach twisted.  “If something goes wrong, you and Iris _both_ could end up in legal trouble or worse.  I respect that you’re trying to help this city, even if I don’t always understand your methods, but Iris is my daughter.” 

Barry shook his head.  “Joe, I already had this fight with Iris,” he said, remembering the way he’d come down on her when he’d found out about her metahuman blog.  “I told her that I didn’t want her getting involved _before_ any of the stuff with Woodward happened, and we didn’t talk for nearly a week.  You even asked me about why we were fighting!” 

“I did, didn’t I?  Well, I can see why she didn’t feel like sharing,” said Joe with a smile that bordered on conspiratorial.  “She told me about her interview at CCPN,” Joe continued after a moment’s pause.  “And no, I’m not gonna try and talk her out of it.  I made that mistake once,” he said with a significant raise of his eyebrows. 

Barry ran a hand through his hair.  “Okay.  You keep bringing it up, but you know how I feel about the police academy thing.  You shouldn’t have forced her to withdraw her application.” 

Joe sighed.  “Lately I’ve been wondering about that.  I was trying to keep her safe, and as her father I still stand by my actions, but even without a gun and badge she’s still been running headlong into danger.” 

“That makes two of us.”  It wasn’t like Barry was sitting safely on the sidelines – he _was_ the Flash, after all, not some random spectator. 

Joe snorted.  “Tell me about it.  You know,” he said, his expression becoming more pensive, “I nearly lost you both over that fight.  Iris was furious with me, of course, and you?  You left for Star City not long after, and then you got struck by lightning.  I’m not sorry about trying to do what I thought was right for Iris, but I am sorry that you got caught in the middle.”

“Yeah – it sucked,” Barry said with a grimace.  “But I’d do it again if I had to.  I do think you’re cool and a good cop, but – Iris first.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” said Joe wryly.  “Alright, then, Barry.  As long as you and her don’t get caught, I won’t come down on you.”  Joe sat down in the visitor’s chair next to Barry’s bed.  “On a more personal note, and you _don’t_ have to answer if you don’t want to, do you mind if I ask where you’ve been staying?  Iris said you weren’t staying with Clarissa.” 

If Joe hadn’t given Barry the out, he probably would have been a bit bothered by the request.  He believed that Joe’s apology had been sincere, but he’d been worried about being on the receiving end of the older man’s anger for too long for him to let it all go right away.  “I’ve gone back and visited her a few times, but it’s – hard, without Martin there,” Barry answered with a sigh.  “Instead I’ve been staying with a friend.  She lost her fiancé in the accelerator explosion and she says she’s been glad of the company.”

“That’s good,” Joe said, looking faintly surprised.  “Are you and she… involved?” 

Barry let out a surprised laugh.  “God no – nope, I am.  Single.”

“Okay.”  Joe looked faintly amused, and Barry found himself relaxing at the lighter atmosphere in the room.  “I just wanted to make sure you had somewhere to go.  I realize it’s sudden, but,” he continued, sounding oddly hesitant, “if anything changes and you need a new room, there’s a guest bed at my house with your name on it.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  He had _not_ been expecting a casual invitation from Joe to – what?  Live with him and Iris?  It brought back too many feelings and memories about when he was younger, and he found himself dismissing it out of hand, even though it was a possibility that would have probably benefited him in the long run.  “I’m fine where I am for now,” he said slowly.  “But I’ll think about it.  And if something changes… I’ll let you know.” 

* * *

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Len said dryly as he and Lisa walked down the hallway of the hospital toward Barry’s room.  “And why am I carrying the flowers?” 

“Stop dithering,” Lisa said without looking at him.  “And don’t try to pretend like you didn’t hint that we should stop at the store for flowers.  You aren’t that good.” 

Len conceded the point with a nod.  “That’s true.” 

“He’s not going to be back at work for a few weeks at least,” Lisa said airily.  “You really should give him your number.  You’ll miss him.”  They came to a stop outside Barry’s door; Len heard voices inside and realized that Iris was probably visiting.  “I’ll let you two have your moment,” said Lisa, shoving Len unceremoniously toward the door.  “Let me know when you’re done visiting, I still need to give Barry a piece of my mind for that stunt he pulled.” 

Len debated calling after her and arguing that Barry didn’t need to receive lectures while he was in the hospital, but ultimately decided it wouldn’t be worth the teasing.  He’d warn Barry about Lisa’s intended lecture while he was visiting. 

He raised a hand to knock on the door, only to belatedly realize that Lisa had left him with the flowers.  He sighed and shifted the bouquet in his arms before rapping on the door with one knuckle. 

The voices inside fell silent, and he heard Barry call hesitantly, “Come in!” 

Len wasn’t sure what other visitors Barry had been waiting for, but he clearly hadn’t been expecting to see Len.  The CSI sat up straight in bed, his eyes wide.  “Snart?  What are you doing here?  Are those _flowers?_ ” 

“They were Lisa’s idea,” Len said automatically, shifting the bundle in his arms.  He wished he had somewhere to set them down, but at least they were stopping his hands from fidgeting.  “And I wanted to see how you were doing.  We both did.  Lisa’s – getting coffee,” he improvised when he realized that he had no idea where his sister had actually gone off to. 

“That’s really sweet of you,” said Iris.  Len glanced at her; she was staring at him in open astonishment, which was a bit awkward, but not as awkward as the fact that he’d actually _forgotten_ that she was in the room.  “How about I go down the hall and see if I can find a vase for those flowers?” 

“Thanks,” said Len, feeling a bit as though he’d lost control of the situation.  Iris fled the room, closing the door behind her as she went. 

With the last of his buffers gone, Len turned to face Barry.  His one saving grace was that the CSI looked as discomfited by the new situation as he felt.  Something about seeing Barry in bed, even a hospital bed, seemed too intimate and personal for their level of friendship.  Barry still called him by his last name, for god’s sake.  “How’s the leg?” he said, for wont of anything better to open with. 

Barry shrugged.  “It’s still got a hole in it, but it doesn’t hurt too much,” he said.  Len felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward at the gallows humor.  “Do you… want to sit down?”

“Sure.”  Len took a seat in the empty chair, laying the flowers gently on the side table.  “Tockman was shipped to Iron Heights,” he said, deciding to quickly summarize the relevant facts.  If he were in Barry’s position, he’d have wanted to know.   “Two officers died, but no one else was injured.  Captain Singh debriefed us all and everyone is going to be fine.” 

“That’s good.”  Barry ran a hand over his face tiredly.  “Iris was trying to distract me, but I’d been wondering what would have happened if things at the station had gone differently,” Barry said.  “Tockman might have escaped, someone else might have gotten shot.  And I couldn’t help feeling a bit bad for the guy,” he said with a sigh.  “He killed multiple people, which was – really, really bad, but the original robberies he committed were for his _sister.”_

“A soft spot for all of us,” said Len with a nod.  Barry had literally thrown himself into the line of fire for Iris just a few hours previously, and Len knew he himself would have done the same for Lisa.  “But if you don’t mind some unsolicited advice, try not to dwell on it.  Things that happen in the past can’t be changed.” 

“It is kind of a morbid line of thought, isn’t it?  But I mean,” Barry said, meeting Len’s eyes, “I used to investigate the supernatural for fun, did you know?  I ran a conspiracy theorist blog as a hobby,” he said with a self-depriciating smile.  “And that was _before_ Central City cornered the market on the mysterious and unexplained.  It’s not like I don’t make a habit out of thinking about strange things already.”  

His comment, delivered in a muttered undertone, reminded Len of something Iris had mentioned when he’d first started to develop his ice powers and had agreed to sit for an interview with her.   _“I have a friend who would be thrilled to meet you,”_ she’d said to him.  

Len’s lip twitched.  Knowing Barry as he did now, he had no doubt that the CSI was the friend to whom Iris had been referring.  Barry hadn’t been as thrilled to meet him as Iris had been expecting; shocked and alarmed, perhaps, but not thrilled.  All the same, he’d definitely paid attention.  “So why the interest in the mysterious _,_ Barry?” Len continued, wondering if the CSI would be willing to continue this unusually-generous sharing.  “Academic curiosity?”

“Personal, actually,” the younger man replied, and Len’s eyebrows rose fractionally.  There was something about his tone of voice that sounded almost like a confession, and he found himself paying even closer attention.  Barry’s forehead crinkled and he took a deep breath before continuing.  “When I was eleven my mom was murdered.”  

“I’m sorry,” Len replied automatically.  He’d heard about what had happened to the Allens. He had been in the police academy when they’d been arrested.  But that wasn’t the point of Barry’s story; he would have known that Len knew.  Every cop in Central knew, if they were old enough to have been around at the time.  

“Yeah, it sucked,” Barry sighed, his gaze distant.  “It was a textbook case.  The police found my dad in the living room holding the murder weapon.  The jury took twenty-two minutes to decide on a verdict.  But it wasn’t him - that night, something… happened.”  He paused, took a deep breath, and exhaled before continuing.  “I heard a noise, so I went downstairs to check it out - and I saw a man in the middle of a ball of lightning.  He looked right at me - his eyes were glowing red,” he said, shivering as if he were suddenly chilled.  “The next thing I knew, I was down at the end of the street,” Barry finished, the words tumbling out of him all at once.  “It took me half an hour to get home, and by the time I got there…”  He trailed off. 

“Your mother was dead,” Len said, nodding slowly, allowing his mind to turn over the new information.  “You said you were taken outside the house?”

“Yep,” Barry said, drawing out the word with a little popping sound on the end of it.  “I don’t know how I ended up there, but that red-eyed thing, whatever it was, killed my mom.  I’ve been tracking down stuff about the impossible ever since.”

The kid’s eyes were defiant, and Len wondered with a sinking feeling just how many people had dismissed Barry’s story before him.  “That’s interesting,” he said, his voice level as Barry seemed to draw in on himself beneath the thin covers of the hospital bed.  “If not for the fact that this happened fifteen years ago, it sounds like something a metahuman could have done.  Haven’t heard of any metahumans running around in 2000, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there somewhere.”  

For a moment, Barry seemed frozen in disbelief.  When he finally reacted, it was like someone had thrown open a window behind Barry’s face.  The suspicion and hostility melted away as he stared at Len, like he was seeing him properly for the first time.  “Wait - you mean you actually believe me?”

“I do,” Len replied.  “It’s a tricky story; you’d have a hell of a time convincing a juror.  I was just getting out of the academy when it happened, and I’d always wondered if there was another explanation.  Your dad is a good man,” he said, looking Barry directly in the eyes.  “He didn’t do it.”  

“Yeah, that’s what I told them but - wait a second,” Barry said, his eyes widening.  “Did you – holy shit, did you _know_ my dad?”  

“I can’t say I knew him well,” Len said, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.  “We only met once.  But it was important.”  Len sighed inwardly - he’d never been the best at talking about this.  Lisa was good at sharing their story, but he preferred to be private with their past.  Still, Barry had told him his perspective on his mom’s murder.  After a confession that weighty, a reciprocal gesture of good faith wouldn’t hurt.  “He helped my sister,” Len continued, and Barry’s eyes widened.  “Our father was a bad cop.  Took things out on his family.  I’d protect Lisa as best I could, but I couldn’t be there all the time.  Once, Lisa had to be taken to the hospital, and your dad was a student in the peds ward.  He was the one who caught on to the fact that Lisa was being abused.”  

“And he helped you both?”  Barry breathed, his eyes round.  

Len nodded.  “He did.  He told everyone in the peds ward, too.  His attending reported my dad to social services, and they believed him.  I was fifteen, Lisa was eight.  They put him in prison, and we went into the system.  It was hard, but it was better than our dad.”

Barry nodded.  “I was in foster care too.  Joe… After it happened, he wanted to take me.  Iris and I were already best friends back then so it made sense.  But he was a single parent and my dad’s arresting officer, so the judge turned him down.  My foster parents were nice, but sometimes I wonder if things might have turned out differently, if I’d lived with them.”  

Len felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch the younger man’s shoulder.  He shoved it down.  Comforting words were fine, but a comforting touch wasn’t his place, especially when Barry was hurt.  “I said I was in the academy when your dad was arrested.  I heard the story.  Never believed it.  Even if I did, I’d never be able to hate the man who saved my sister.”  

Barry’s eyes were too bright, and with surprise Len realized that somewhere along the line the CSI had started _crying_.  “I haven’t given up on him,” he said.  “I still keep hoping that I’ll find something that can prove he’s innocent.  Even if I never find the man in yellow, I could still find something else.”  

“World’s a big place,” Len agreed.  “Maybe looking into metahumans will turn up something new.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, folding his arms and looking up at the ceiling.  “Maybe.”

This brighter, more open Barry Allen seemed almost like a different person.   Len found himself enjoying the rare vulnerability when it was motivated by happiness, not fear.  Lisa might have been onto something.  He’d become far fonder of Barry than he’d originally realized, and with a pang he remembered his injury.  The CSI wouldn’t be back in the office for some time.  Len had actually started to get used to their odd routine, and to his surprise, he realized that he would miss it. 

He’d opened his mouth to speak before he realized what he was doing.  “Barry – you’ll be out of work for a while, so you can have my number.  If you want it.  And if I can ever help you with your father’s case, I hope you’ll ask.”

Why had he _said_ that?  There was no guarantee he’d even be able to help, no way of knowing for certain if he could even keep that promise.  But then Barry flashed him a thousand-watt smile, and he found he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.  “You know what?  I think I actually will.  Thanks, Snart.”  

“And another thing,” Len said, because he might as well dig a hole properly while he was at it.  “Stop calling me Snart.  I’m not your boss, I’m your friend.  Call me Len.”  

Barry’s answering stare was surprised and questioning, but he still looked happy, and Len decided that he would take it.  “Alright – Len it is, then.  And… really, thank you,” he said, his expression twisting into something more pensive.  “With my dad – all of it has been hard.  But it feels good knowing there’s someone else out there who believes in him.” 

Len nodded, and made a mental note to look into the old Allen case file the first chance he got.  He’d pored over the files before, but he’d been looking for ordinary evidence, not supernatural.  It wouldn’t hurt to ask the Flash if the speedster knew anything about the murder.  He seemed too young to have been involved, but he was Len’s only somewhat-reliable source on the other side of the law.  He might see or hear things that Len didn’t. 

Now that he had more information, Len could make an attempt to undo some of the wrong the system had done.  He wasn’t sure when he’d get a chance to make good on his promise to Barry, but Len knew that when the opportunity came, he would do what he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that when your main POV character is trapped in a hospital bed and forced to endure a series of uncomfortably personal conversations, you end up with a very dialogue-heavy chapter? At least there's some closure on the Joe West front, finally - a lot of people have been asking about why he and Barry weren't on great terms in the first place. I was originally going to have this chapter written entirely in Barry's POV, but I decided to do the last scene with Len narrating since he'll be offscreen for a lot of the episode 8 scenes. Barry's feelings about that last conversation will be discussed though! 
> 
> (Also I'm curious if anyone else ended up watching Gattaca in their high school biology classes? Because that was a thing that my school did and my friends who went to other schools did the same thing. Watching Gattaca in first-year biology was one of those Ubiquitous High School Experiences in my town.) 
> 
> Lastly, because having Len and Barry as the narrators means that some great moments can never be shown, a missing vignette: Iris is giggling to herself as she escapes from Barry's hospital room, leaving Barry all alone with his crush. She heads downstairs to the lobby to get herself a coffee - it's been a long day and she's earned it. When she rounds the corner, she sees Lisa and immediately starts laughing harder because she's sitting at a table, sipping her drink and looking very, very pleased with herself. Lisa looks up and sees her, and grins. "You too?" she says, pushing out a second chair with her foot. "This is going to be _fun."_


	18. Cabin Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but the next update is here! I was so excited about the Flash Season 3 finale tonight that I woke up this morning, sat down at my laptop, and wrote nearly the entire chapter in a day. o.o I'm glad I can post it before the finale - what a fitting tribute to this rollercoaster of a season. Luckily, this chapter won't make us cry like babies the finale probably will. I think. o.o
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say yet another thank you for all the support and feedback I've gotten on this fic. As of this chapter, By Any Other Name has topped one thousand kudos, and the kind comments I get from you all never fail to make me smile. I love my story, but you all make the writing even more worth it! 
> 
> Without further ado, here's the chapter! It's the longest one to date, and it's got some stuff in it that I know my reviewers have been excited about, so I am glad I can share it tonight. Enjoy! :D

Two weeks was a long time to be out of the office. 

Barry had known that he wouldn’t be able to go back to the precinct right away.  He was supposed to be recovering from a gunshot wound, he couldn’t just show up hale and hearty and ready to process soil samples.  When Caitlin had insisted on him taking a break, he’d acquiesced readily enough, acknowledging the necessity even if he didn’t like it. 

When she and Dr. Wells had specified that he’d likely have to stay out of the office for nearly a month, he’d been decidedly less happy. 

Without his duties as the Flash to keep him occupied, he would have gone stir-crazy.  His leg had mostly healed within the day – in fact, he’d had to fake a limp when he and Caitlin had left the hospital, to keep from looking suspicious – and by the weekend it had been good as new.  Boredom hadn’t really had the chance to set in, since Dr. Wells seemed all-too-pleased to have Barry to himself and had been devising new training exercises for him round the clock. 

All the extra time and attention that Barry had to devote to his Flash duties had produced demonstrable improvements in his running.  His top speed was still hovering around Mach 1.1, but he was able to reach the speed of sound faster and easier than he had during his fight against Tony.  His control had also improved – he no longer had to struggle to keep himself on track at higher speeds, and whatever bizarre energy had been fighting with him for control, it now seemed content to leave him well enough alone. 

This was probably a good thing, since whenever Barry tried to bring it up with Dr. Wells, his mentor seemed to become mysteriously deaf.  He probably wasn’t in the mood for spooky stories about unquantifiable energy sources, but it was still a bit annoying. 

The extra free time had its perks when it came to his other relationships, too.  Barry had been spending more time with Clarissa lately – he hadn’t told her about Firestorm yet, or his suspicions that Martin might still be alive, but the extra opportunities to visit her were welcome even if he did spend a little time feeling guilty that he hadn’t told his foster mom everything.  Visiting Iris had also become a normal part of his evening routine.  Even though he worried about a future resurgence of tension between Joe and himself, Barry did enjoy being able to spend time at Iris’ house without looking over his shoulder constantly.  Joe had been surprised to see Barry up and about, but once he’d explained about the Flash’s healing factor the detective had been sympathetic.  He’d offered to keep Barry up to date on the CCPD’s cases, and Barry had gladly taken him up on it. 

Unfortunately, Joe’s play-by-play coverage of daily happenings at the CCPD didn’t extend to the activities of the other officers.  And there was no way in hell that Barry was going to stoop to asking for updates on the daily lives of Leonard and Lisa Snart. 

It was really a problem of his own making, and Barry knew it.  Len had given Barry his number.  He’d given Barry permission to use it – both in his Flash uniform and out of it, even if Len didn’t know that.  And Barry hadn’t been a complete coward – he’d texted Len a few times, mainly just updates on his day and on his supposedly-healing leg injury.  He was even able to convincingly fake a post-injury Netflix binge – Barry might have had a lot on his plate, but he could binge shows at a record rate thanks to his newfound ability to comprehend recordings at four times their intended speed.  The frame rate got a little choppy, but as long as it wasn’t an action scene with shaky cam, Barry did just fine. 

But anything more than small talk made Barry antsy, for reasons he could never quite lay his finger on.  He was definitely worried about accidentally giving away too much about his awareness of metahuman affairs, even if things around the city had been fairly quiet on that front.  And he _missed_ Len.  Their brief squabble had created some distance in their odd friendship, but as uncomfortable as the heart-to-heart at the hospital had been, it had closed that distance and then some. 

He’d gritted his teeth and forced himself to send a more risky text message a few hours previously – a link to a one of Iris’ non-Flash-related blog posts, one that Barry had particularly enjoyed.  It wasn’t as risky as, say, inviting Len over to watch a movie, but it was still related to Barry’s personal interests and not work.  There hadn’t been any reply yet, and Barry was starting to get antsy.

“I’m just saying,” he sighed to Cisco as he watched the engineer over the top of the gigantic computer screen.  “It shouldn’t be hard for me to text him.  I just don’t know if we’re… there yet?  Does he actually want to talk to me or is he just giving me his number because of work stuff?” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Cisco replied, looking up briefly from the computer screen.  “I met the guy once, and he seemed really intense to me but also pretty easygoing about social stuff.  If you’re worried about coming on too strong, I doubt he’d judge you for it.” 

“It’s a bit late to worry about coming on too strong,” Barry said with a grimace.  “I kind of told him my entire life’s story when he came to visit me in the hospital.  Complete with all the murder.” 

“Ooh, yeah I can see where you’re coming from,” Cisco said, sending another, slightly more sympathetic, glance his way.  “But _seriously._ It will be fine.  Don’t bother with a waiting game – text him if you want to text him, and hopefully he’ll do the same.”

“You give good advice,” said Barry with a quick grin.  “No wonder you managed to get Lisa’s number.”

Cisco blushed.  “Now _that_ was luck, my friend.  Sheer dumb luck.  Now get over here, I found a news story that might interest you.  I’ve been running database checks, looking for anything new on our friend Firestorm.”

Barry was at his side in an instant.  “Has there been a sighting?” 

“Not of Firestorm,” said Cisco, shaking his head.  “But he was mentioned in an interview by General Eiling.  He was back in Central for a meeting on domestic terrorism threats, and he had a lot to say about metahumans.” 

Barry was reeling.  Eiling had been back in Central?  How had he missed that?  “When did this happen?” 

“It was a couple of weeks ago, right after the hostage situation at CCPD,” Cisco said with a grimace.  “Most of the news cycle was dedicated to covering that, and the conference itself was fairly low-key to begin with.  Probably a bunch of bigwigs meeting around a round table to hash things out.” 

“What I wouldn’t have given to be a fly on the wall for _that_ meeting.  That’s the sort of thing that is kept low-profile on purpose.”  Barry glanced around to make sure that Dr. Wells wasn’t in the room before leaning closer to Cisco.  “Do you think Bette is okay?” 

Cisco’s eyes widened.  “I hadn’t even thought about that.  She probably has no idea that Eiling is still hanging around.  Do you think we should check her location?” 

“Let’s not,” Barry said, feeling a bit guilty.  “Eiling is long gone by now, and she hasn’t done anything wrong.  I don’t want to just – peek in on her.  Not unless she started blowing up stuff again.” 

Cisco nodded.  “Yeah, you’re right.  But if her portable alarm goes off, we need to track her down ASAP.  Like, yesterday levels of fast.”

“Agreed,” said Barry with a grin.  His phone buzzed in his pocket; he pulled it out and saw, with a flash of pleased surprise, that it was a message from Len.  “Hold on a sec – Len just texted me back.  I’m gonna read this.” 

“I’m still dying to know where the whole ‘Len’ thing came from anyway,” Cisco called as Barry entered his passcode.  “Lenny is a much more obvious nickname for a guy named Leonard.” 

“Lisa’s the only one who calls him Lenny,” Barry said, opening his messages.  “I’m not about to step in the middle of that one.” 

“Yeah, I can see why you wouldn’t want to get put in the same box as his sister,” Cisco said, a hint of a smirk on his face. 

Barry gave Cisco a _look,_ but the engineer didn’t elaborate – just sat there with a deceptively innocent look on his face.  Barry rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his phone.  Len’s text was a long one – Barry skimmed the first few lines in puzzlement, but his heart sank as he took in the words.  “Len sent me a work update.  There’s been a shooting at one of the banks downtown, and he and Lisa think a metahuman was involved.” 

Cisco grimaced.  “And you can’t go into the station to gather intel because you’re supposed to be on medical leave.  What are we gonna do?” 

“We can’t do anything right now,” Barry said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “If there is a meta, we have no idea what their powers are or how they work.  I promised Iris I would stop by Jitters at the end of her shift, but text me if you learn anything from the news or the police scanners,” he said, and Cisco nodded.  “I can check it out later tonight if you find any leads.  If there’s one good thing about me being on paid leave, it’s that the Flash showing up at crime scenes won’t make me look suspicious around the precinct.” 

After exchanging a few more brief farewells, Barry turned and headed out of the Cortex.  He looked around warily before taking off at a run – nothing too fancy, just a slow two hundred miles per hour.  He was cutting it close meeting Iris at Jitters, but that was what super-speed was for. 

Barry skidded to a stop in an alley several blocks from Jitters – it wouldn’t do to go speeding in there in the middle of broad daylight, especially because cops from the precinct could be hanging around.  He had to be cautious. 

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump.  _Speaking of caution._ Barry fished it out, nearly dropping it in his haste to answer, before managing to slide his thumb across the screen.  “Hey, what’s up Cisco?  Has there been news?” 

“Barry, it’s me,” said the gruff, unmistakable voice of Oliver Queen. 

Barry’s jaw dropped, and he felt the cold fingers of adrenaline run their fingers down the back of his neck.  “Oliver?” he said, confusion rising as he began to recover from his surprise.  “What’s – why are you calling me?” 

“I wanted to let you know that there might be a dangerous hired killer in your city,” Oliver said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.  “His name is Digger Harkness, but he’s often referred to in organized-crime circles as Captain Boomerang.” 

Barry fought the urge to hold back a snort. Well, if _Captain Boomerang_ was in Central City, he and his codename would fit right in.  At least Len hadn’t started publicly calling himself Captain Cold or anything – he might get jealous if a criminal Captain started throwing muscle around in Central. 

Barry’s lips twitched at the absurdity of Len being jealous of a criminal, then pushed the bizarre train of logic aside.  “Thanks for the heads-up.  If he shows up, do you want me to let you know?” 

“No need,” Oliver replied smoothly.  “My team and I are on our way to Central City as well.  Some forensic analysis of Harkness’ weaponry indicated that we might find a lead in Central.” 

“Oh,” Barry said, his stomach doing a weird little twist.  “Alright, cool.  Are you going to need my help?  Because strictly speaking I’m on paid leave, and I’m not sure how the people at my _other job_ are going to take you turning up.  I told Cisco we’ve worked together, but I haven’t mentioned you to the others – and I definitely haven’t named any names.” 

“I appreciate that, Barry, but we’ll be staying out of STAR Labs’ hair as much as possible.  I would be interested in training you, though,” Oliver continued, and Barry made a face.  “You may have superpowers, but I still have years of experience on you when it comes to stealth in urban settings.” 

“Fine, I get it, you have a point,” Barry grumbled.  “I’ll train with you – but if you shoot a single fucking arrow at me I’m hiring Felicity to replace all the half and half in the Arrow Cave with soymilk for the next six months.” 

“Petty revenge.  I like it,” said Oliver with a chuckle.  “I’ll let you go, but I look forward to seeing you.  I’ll give you a ring when we get to town.” 

“Sounds good,” said Barry, swallowing.  “I’ll see you then.” 

He hung up, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  Oliver Queen and the Arrow team were coming to Central.  Fuck. 

 _First thing’s first_ , he told himself firmly – he still needed to get coffee with Iris.  Then he could go back to Caitlin’s, take a really long shower, and distract himself from his mounting case of nerves with a four-hour Netflix binge.  One of the crime shows would be fun – there was nothing like yelling about the bad science in NCIS to take his mind off something harrowing. 

When he pushed open the door to Jitters, he was unsurprised to see Iris already waiting for him at a table.  She hadn’t gotten her coffee yet, so Barry held out a bit of hope that he hadn’t been as late as he’d feared.  “What did you order?” he asked as he approached the table. 

“I haven’t ordered yet.  I was waiting for you,” said Iris with a smirk. 

Well, so much for his hope of not being late.  At least this time he had an interesting reason. 

They ordered their drinks – Iris got her usual mocha while Barry continued his slow crawl through Jitters’ seasonal menu – before returning to their table.  “Alright, I’m curious,” Iris said when they sat down.  “Usually you’re pretty quick to say why you were late, but you haven’t made a peep.  What’s up?” 

How the hell was Iris so perceptive, anyway?  It wasn’t fair.  “I kind of got a phone call from someone I wasn’t expecting to talk to,” Barry said, attempting to take a sip of his Chai latte and wincing when it burned his lip.  He set the drink down.  “A friend from when I lived in Starling.” 

“Ooh, interesting,” said Iris, raising an eyebrow.  “Does this mysterious friend have a name?” 

Barry grimaced.  _Here it comes._ “I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope for that you’ve never heard of Oliver Queen?” 

Iris’ jaw dropped.  “Barry Allen!” she said, reaching across the table to smack his shoulder.  “You did not tell me you knew Oliver Queen.” 

Barry made a face.  If only his coffee wasn’t too hot to sip – taking a drink was an excellent way of diffusing weird conversations.  “I know Oliver Queen.” 

“Well that’s really something,” Iris said.  “You don’t seem like you’re particularly excited to see him, though,” she continued before her eyes widened.  “Oh my god.  Barry.  Is Oliver Queen your _ex?”_

“What – no!  Oliver Queen is not my ex!”  Barry could feel his face heating up, because while he and Oliver had never been a _thing,_ Barry had definitely had a thing for him, at least for a little while.  An intense, magnetic person like that, giving him so much attention – of course he’d been interested. 

But that was before he’d found out about all the lies and secrets.  The vigilantism had just been the icing on the cake.  And the murder.  That had definitely been a factor in him taking a step back and saying _hell no._

“But he definitely did something that hurt you,” Iris said, looking worried.  “You don’t seem happy that he’s coming to town.” 

“I’m not _unhappy_ about it, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Barry said before realizing that he sounded overly defensive.  He took a deep breath.  It was just Iris.  "Honestly, sometimes I’m just not sure how to feel about him,” Barry admitted, dropping his gaze to the tabletop.  “We have kind of a weird history.  When I worked at the SCPD, he’d come by the station sometimes.  He knew people there – I think he’d dated the Chief’s daughter at one point?  And he was always interested in the science-y part of my work.  He asked a ton of questions,” Barry said with a half-smile, remembering.  “But it turned out that he was picking my brain for stuff to help him with his vigilante investigations.  I felt used,” he said, his smile fading.  “I called him on it once I figured out what was really going on, and he apologized – invited me to join his team too, since I already knew the truth.  And I did help them out sometimes, because the stuff going on in Starling City was – bad.  Lots of crime, actual _terrorism._ But after all the lying, I never felt like I could let my guard down again.” 

“That sucks, Barr.  I’m sorry,” said Iris, giving his hand a squeeze.  “He sounds like a real piece of work, even if the two of you are friends.  I kind of want to kick his ass,” she said with a conspiratorial smirk. 

“You and me both,” Barry said with a grin.  “On the bright side, I never actually dated the guy – that would have been way worse.  We’re mostly cool now, and we _are_ friends, but it’s a complicated history.  I’m pretty glad the rest of his team is coming with him.” 

Iris picked up her mug and took a sip.  “Tell me about them while you drink your Chai-spiced _whatever_ that thing is,” she said with a meaningful nod toward Barry’s untouched cup. 

“You can’t make fun of my devotion to the seasonal menu,” Barry protested before taking a sip of his drink.  “And you _know_ it’s a cinnamon-clove Chai latte.  You literally work here.” 

“Not for much longer,” Iris said with a grin, leaning across the table conspiratorially.  “Picture News got back to me, and they’re interested!  I am officially hired, and I start work after the holidays.” 

“Holy shit – Iris!  This is huge!” Barry said, feeling his mood lift at the sudden good news.  “What kind of pieces are they going to have you working on?  Are you going to be doing interviews?” 

“I will tell you everything I know, but first you’ve gotta tell me about the rest of Oliver’s team,” Iris said, waggling a finger at him in mock severity.  “What are they like?” 

“Alright, you get a _quick_ overview and then you’re spilling the beans,” Barry said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.  “First off, I was only their backup plan when it came to scientists.  There’s a girl on the team named Felicity…”

The rest of the coffee outing passed in pleasant conversation.  Barry told Iris about his old associates back in Starling, and shared some of the more harrowing cases he’d helped them solve – stories that, until now, he hadn’t shared with anyone in Central – and in return Iris filled him in on the details of her new position.  By the time they left Jitters, Barry’s anxiety about Oliver’s phone call and imminent arrival had faded, replaced by a sense of calm.  There were still things he needed to do – he had to let the STAR Labs team know that Oliver and company were going to be in town, even if he didn’t plan on sharing their identities yet, and he had to figure out how to get more intel on the potential metahuman who had been involved in that bank heist.  But talking to Iris had settled his mood, the way it always did. 

“Now, before we go our separate ways,” Iris said as they stepped out of Jitters and into the cold December air, “have you heard anything more from Detective Snart?  It’s been two weeks since you saw each other.”

Barry rubbed the back of his neck – a fortnight wasn’t that much time to be away from the office, but for some reason it felt like it had been longer.  “We’ve been texting,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks redden slightly.  “Mostly about work stuff.  He’s been keeping me filled in about the metahuman cases.” 

“That’s good,” said Iris, still looking at him expectantly.  “Any personal conversations?” 

“Sort of?”  Barry fidgeted.  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this.” 

Iris sighed, but luckily she seemed willing to let the matter drop.  “You’re clueless sometimes, Barr,” she said.  “Text me later, okay?  Eddie and I have a date tonight, but if Oliver starts being a jerk you let me know, and I’ll figure out a way to give him a piece of my mind.” 

Barry grinned.  “For his sake I hope he’s on his best behavior.  I’ll see you later.  And – thanks.” 

Iris gave him a quick hug.  “Anytime.” 

* * *

In the end, Barry got his long shower but had to forgo the Netflix marathon.  There was too much to do.  A train trip from Starling City took about eleven hours, barring any stops or delays, but Barry wanted to be ready long before his old team showed up in Central, and that meant some speedy prep work was in order. 

Cisco and Caitlin had been excited to hear that the Arrow and his friends were coming to Central City, but Dr. Wells had been considerably less enthused.  “I don’t like it,” he’d said in a tone of voice that had brooked no argument.  “I cannot prevent them from coming to Central City, but unless extenuating circumstances arise, please make it clear to your friends that I would like them to keep their distance from the facility.” 

“Why?” Barry returned, puzzled.  “I know these guys.  You might not agree with the Arrow’s methods – I definitely don’t always – but they can be trusted to keep a secret.” 

“I prefer to surround my team with known variables, Mister Allen,” Dr. Wells had said in response, his blue eyes piercing.  “While I do not doubt that the Arrow and his associates are your friends, and may make valuable allies, they are still unknown.  And until such time as they choose to make themselves known to me, I would prefer that they not set foot in STAR Labs.” 

It had been impossible for Barry to argue with that, not without taking the conversation in a direction that made it obvious that the identity of the Arrow wasn’t a secret to Barry.  So he’d let it go, at least in front of Wells.  But he’d filled Cisco and Caitlin in on the other members of the Arrow team and what they could expect, especially from Felicity. 

“I’m not sure they’ll need our help, but if Felicity does ask me to run forensics on anything, I can’t take it to the CCPD to do it,” Barry finished explaining with a grimace.  “It’d have to be done here.  If I bring something back to the lab, can you cover for me with Dr. Wells?” 

“Barry, I don’t think Dr. Wells would be angry with you for running a forensic analysis on our equipment,” Caitlin said hesitantly.  “He didn’t object to you helping them, he just doesn’t want the Arrow team inside our base of operations.” 

“Alright, but – can we just not bring it up with him unless it becomes relevant?” Barry rubbed his eyebrows, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.  “I’ve been chewed out once today already, I’d really rather not repeat it unless I have to.” 

“Fair enough,” Cisco said.  “Don’t worry about it,” he insisted.  “I checked the train schedule, and the next train from Starling City is due tomorrow morning at nine.  You’ve got an entire night free of worry, dude,” he said, clapping Barry on the shoulder in a bracing sort of way. 

“You have a point,” Barry said with a smile.  He’d have to go meet them all at the station and fill them in on what they could expect, both from him and STAR Labs.  But in the meantime, he had a free night – and while a Netflix binge still seemed inviting, there was a part of him that definitely wanted to be around people.  “Do you guys want to go to Big Belly Burger and grab some dinner once we finish stuff here?” Barry said hesitantly.  “I know it’s pretty early, but I’m in the mood for a double.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Cisco said with a grin.  “Caitlin, can you force yourself to down some fries?” 

“I don’t have to _force_ myself,” Caitlin said, tilting her head up and smirking at Cisco.  “I would be happy to join you both.” 

“Good, then it’s settled – wait a second, hold that thought,” said Cisco, looking back toward the computer monitor with a frown.  “There’s been an alarm at Central City Reserve.  One of the tellers tripped it.” 

“So there’s a heist in progress,” Barry finished, zipping over to the mannequin and grabbing his suit.  “I’m on the way there – keep me updated if the dispatch radio gives you any new information.” 

He took off running, his mind racing.  The computer had read just a quarter after five PM when he’d checked the time – the middle of rush hour.  Most of the city’s major banks closed at six on weekdays, to accommodate the large influx of rush-hour clients on their way home from work, and it was uncommon for heists to occur during normal operating hours due to the greater number of eyewitnesses.  If Barry had to guess, their robber was probably an amateur, either unfamiliar with planning a heist or not relying on a particularly sophisticated plan to get what they were after. 

When Barry reached the Central City Reserve, he stopped and pressed himself to the wall of the bank.  He could hear noises coming from inside – no gunshots, thankfully, but there were definitely raised voices, and they sounded angry.  “Cisco, any updates for me?” 

“Yeah, just one – the police radio says that the Metahuman Task Force has been dispatched,” Cisco said over Barry’s radio.  “It looks like it’s the meta that Snart warned you about earlier.” 

“Two bank robberies in one day, from the same metahuman?” Barry said, making a face.  “They’re either overconfident or desperate, and neither one sounds particularly fun.”

“Be careful,” Caitlin said.  “And stay away from the metahuman until you have an idea of what their ability could be.” 

“I will,” Barry promised, then stepped around the corner and into the doorway of the bank. 

The sight that greeted his eyes was one of pure pandemonium.  Angry civilians were everywhere – screaming, punching and kicking each other, destroying furniture and artwork, and just generally causing mayhem.  None of them looked like they were stealing anything – just hell-bent on causing as much destruction as possible. 

Mentally, Barry added a third option to his tally – their metahuman criminal wasn’t out for a stealthy heist at all, but was instead aiming to cause as much chaos and destruction as possible.  He bit his lip.  That didn’t bode well. 

Barry flashed up to the balcony, out of reach of the angry crowd.  The scene looked even worse from above, but fortunately none of the mayhem had spread to the streets beyond.  “Cisco, I think this metahuman whammied the bank patrons,” he said, scanning the crowd for any injured people.  “They’re all just – enraged.  They’re attacking each other, smashing things, you name it.” 

“Yikes,” said Cisco in Barry’s ear. 

“Barry, you need to stay away from the metahuman,” Caitlin said.  “We don’t know how his powers work yet – he could be producing some sort of hallucinogenic gas, or disabling the parts of the brain that control higher functioning with some kind of sonic attack.” 

“And we have no idea how those kinds of powers would affect me,” Barry said.  “Okay, I’ll keep my hands off the metahuman unless I have a clear shot.  How am I supposed to find them in this crowd?” 

“Look for someone who’s behaving normally,” Caitlin advised.  “If our meta is enraging the patrons to serve as a distraction, they should be the only person in the room who isn’t operating under the influence of their powers.” 

“Good idea.  Now if I can just – wait.  I see him,” Barry said, his gaze zeroing in on a tall, thin man toward the rear of the bank.  He was wearing a trenchcoat and black sunglasses, had a bulky-looking messenger bag around his shoulder, and seemed completely indifferent to the chaos around him as he made his way toward the exit.  “He’s trying to make a break for it.” 

Barry hesitated for an indecisive heartbeat before streaking down the stairs and back onto the main floor.  Unknown meta-powers or not, he couldn’t just stand there and do _nothing_ while a metahuman criminal robbed a roomful of civilians of their autonomy and made off with a pile of stolen cash. 

Dodging the angry patrons proved to be a bigger obstacle than he’d anticipated.  As soon as he stepped out of the stairwell they were on him, just as much a target of their rage as the other people who’d been whammied.  They even seemed _more_ agitated by his presence than they would  have been otherwise – he was definitely receiving a disproportionate amount of attention, and had to duck several punches as he passed the teller’s station and made his way toward the entrance.    

The metahuman reached the door well ahead of Barry – the patrons were ignoring him completely, as if he didn’t exist.  “Hey!” Barry yelled at him as he dodged yet another right hook.  “Stop right there!” 

The metahuman paused, then turned to look over his shoulder.  When the thin man caught sight of Barry, his eyebrows briefly rose in surprise.  He said something that Barry was too far away to hear, then began reaching for his sunglasses. 

Barry put on a burst of speed and tried to catch up to him, but he was sent sprawling by the leg of an enraged patron.  He skidded to a stop by the benches and looked up. 

The metahuman was walking towards him now, the angry people parting out of the way to let him through.  Barry’s blood ran cold and he scrambled to regain his footing. 

Then something collided with the bench next to him, with a solid _thunk._ Barry turned his head and saw an arrow embedded in the wood, a red light flashing in its tip. 

Barry closed his eyes and rolled out of the way.  _Fuck._

The arrow beeped loudly and exploded in a cloud of thick smoke, enveloping the interior of the bank in seconds.  Barry took advantage of the cover and sprang to his feet, darting away from where he’d seen the metahuman standing. 

Grimly, he looked up, scanning the high ground for Oliver. 

And yep – there he was, lurking behind a pillar on the balcony, his dark green outfit making him one with the night, or some shit like that.  At least he was wearing the mask Barry had made for him instead of the greasepaint he’d favored in his Hood days.  Barry wondered how long he’d been up there. 

Oliver rappelled down to the ground floor and swatted aside the two briefcase-wielding men who immediately tried to accost him.  “Save the pleasantries for later,” he said, using that voice modulator that made the hair on the back of Barry’s neck stand on end.  “You handle the civilians.  I’ll go after the metahuman.” 

Barry nodded.  Oliver was right this time – the civilians needed to be incapacitated, and safely, before they could do any more damage to the bank or to each other.  Oliver’s methods were decidedly less suited for _safe_ than his own. 

Now that he wasn’t forced to divide his attention, subduing the angry patrons was easy.  None of them were using any kind of subtlety, and none of them could fight.  As soon as they saw Barry, they went for him, leaving themselves wide open to being knocked over, or shoved into a storage closet, or wrapped up with a curtain, or whatever other opportunities presented themselves.  Making his life easier was the fact that whatever influence the metahuman was exerting seemed to only be temporary – the last few patrons were definitely less aggressive than the first, and went down with less of a struggle. 

Barry tied the hands of the last patron, a red-faced man with a large, bushy moustache, behind his back with the cord of a vacuum cleaner before turning back to find Oliver.  The Arrow had disappeared, and the front door of the bank was open – Barry cursed and sped out the door. 

The first thing he saw was Oliver, standing in the doorway with his bow drawn back – “Whoa, whoa, no way!” Barry said, slapping Oliver’s bow down.  “No shooting people in my city!” 

“It was a tranquilizer,” said Oliver mildly, still staring out into the dark.  “I know the rules.” 

A brief silence fell.  “How are you already here?” Barry said.  “I thought you guys were due into Central tomorrow morning.” 

Oliver glanced at Barry, a puzzled frown just visible beneath his cowl.  “Barry, catching a flight to Central City only takes three hours.” 

Barry resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands.  _Dammit._ Out loud, he said “Are you and the rest of your team all settled in, then?  Found a good hotel and stuff?” 

“Felicity picked one in the downtown area,” Oliver replied with a nod.  “We have some unpacking to do, but I thought I’d come investigate when I heard the police scanner.  See the Flash in action before our training,” he said with a tiny smile. 

“Well, I hope you liked what you saw,” Barry said, a bit aggravated by the insinuation that Oliver had been judging him.  Then his brain caught up with his mouth, and he was relieved that his blush was hidden by the cowl. 

Luckily, Oliver didn’t seem to have noticed the innuendo.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Barry,” he said.  “I’m sure you need to touch base with your team.” 

“Right,” Barry said.  “Text me about training.  And say hi to Felicity for me.” 

Oliver’s posture became slightly more rigid, and Barry fought down the urge to snicker to himself.  “I will.  Goodnight, Barry.” 

Barry turned and ran off into the city, headed back in the direction of STAR Labs.  Their mystery metahuman had gotten away, Oliver and his band of merry men had shown up ahead of schedule, and they were still no closer to finding out how the bank robber’s powers had worked, or how he had managed to affect so many people. 

He was frustrated, and he wanted answers.  Monitoring the police scanners just wasn’t the same as a solid, in-person connection at the CCPD.  But he couldn’t go back to work yet, or Caitlin and Dr. Wells would have his hide. 

He’d have to take a different angle if he wanted to get any new leads on this one.  He’d have to talk to Len. 


	19. Seeing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with another update! This chapter is coming to you live from the Caribbean - my family and I are on vacation this week! Between waiting for the plane and the actual flight itself, I had a ton of writing time, and the result is the longest chapter of this fic so far. At this rate, it's looking like there will be one or two more chapters related to the crossover episode. I'd originally planned to breeze through it, but some of the feedback I received on the last chapter actually inspired me to take this one in a different direction, and I'm really happy with the result! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter. Internet is somewhat spotty out here, but one morning when I have a good connection I'll sit down and reply to all the lovely comments in my inbox.

If Iris were here, Barry was fairly certain that his best friend would have teased him for how long it was taking him to call Len.  “It’s just a phone call,” she would have said.  “It doesn’t have to be a big production, just ask him for the information you want and leave it at that.” 

And Barry knew his imaginary-Iris voice was right.  Len would almost certainly be forthcoming with information about the bank-robber meta.  He probably wouldn’t even ask Barry why he was interested in the case.  It really shouldn’t have been a big deal. 

But for whatever reason, it was. 

Barry glared at his cell phone, wishing for the umpteenth time that he didn’t feel so fucking _awkward_ about calling Len.  He knew that his anxiety was completely irrational, but that didn’t change the fact that he could feel his own elevated heart rate.  He leaned back on the sofa, burrowing into his pile of blankets as if hiding would make him somehow feel safer so that he would just _hit the call button_ and be done with the whole mess. 

“I made chamomile tea,” said Caitlin, emerging from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in her hands.  She placed one on the coffee table in front of Barry with a sympathetic smile.  “Do you want me to wait in the bedroom until you’re done with your call?” 

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Barry said, feeling guilty and a bit embarrassed.  “I know it’ll be fine and I just want to get it over with, but still.  I know I’m being stupid.  Do you wanna watch some more of Orange Is The New Black after I’m done with this?” 

“That sounds great.”  Caitlin headed for the bedroom, then paused.  “And Barry – being nervous about a phone call isn’t stupid.  Especially when it’s to someone you admire,” she said with another one of her knowing smiles.  “Good luck, and you’ll be fine.” 

Barry grumbled inwardly and wrapped a blanket more firmly around his torso, wishing that he wasn’t such a disaster.  At least Caitlin was _nice_ about him exiling her from her own living room so that he could have privacy.  Really, he couldn’t have asked for a better temporary housemate. 

Now that he had tea and Netflix to look forward to, Barry found himself feeling a bit calmer.  It was as good as he was going to get, at least until the call was over.  He dialed the number, hit the call button, and waited. 

The dialtone rang several times, and to his surprise Barry found himself feeling anxious about what he would do if Len _didn’t_ answer.  He’d have to leave a message, he supposed, which was just a whole new level of awkward – he rambled worse on answering machines than he did in person.

“This is Detective Snart speaking,” said Len, his voice groggy, as if he’d been sleeping. 

Barry’s stomach gave a funny little twist – he hoped he hadn’t woken him up.  It _was_ nine PM, and Len was probably still at the station, especially since there had been a meta-related robbery, but for a wild moment Barry couldn’t help but think about Len answering the phone in his pajamas and had to fight back a blush.  “Hey – Len, it’s me.  Barry,” he added, just in case Len hadn’t recognized his voice right away. 

There was a thud on the other end of the line, then some fumbling noises.  “Barry, hello,” said Len, his voice as smooth as ever in spite of the fact that he might have just dropped the phone.  “I wasn’t expecting – how are you doing?” 

“I’m doing good,” said Barry, finding, to his surprise, that it was actually true.  He snuggled further into the blankets, unable to entirely suppress his goofy grin – it had been too long since he’d heard Len’s voice.  “I’m sorry I called so late, but I was watching the news and I saw that there had been a metahuman attack at one of the banks downtown?  Did you get sent there?” 

“They called in the Taskforce once it was determined that a meta was responsible for the attack,” Len said, and Barry nodded – he’d expected as much, but it was good to have it confirmed by a source other than Oliver.  “Got there too late to offer much in the way of assistance, unfortunately.  We just got in the way of the CSIs,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing note. 

“I’m sure Lisa didn’t say anything,” Barry said, his lips twitching at the thought of Lisa’s operation being swarmed by a bunch of unnecessary extra cops.  “As long as nobody got footprints on her work, that is.  Do you know anything about the meta that attacked the bank?” 

“Nothing.  The only solid lead we have is that the Flash was there,” Len said, and Barry swallowed.  “Several civilians said he tried to intervene and catch the suspect.” 

“That’s – weird,” Barry said, pulling the blanket more tightly around himself.  “So the Flash isn’t a suspect?” 

“Not right now,” Len said, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  “We’re back at the station tracking the thief, though, or at least the most likely suspect.  There are tracers hidden in the stacks of stolen money, and the thief didn’t take the time to remove them.” 

Barry nodded.  “So either he’s brazenly overconfident, a complete novice, or he’s just careless,” he said, quickly ticking through his theories from earlier that evening.  “None of those sound good.  Just be careful when you do go after him, okay?  Not that I think you won’t be careful,” he said hastily.  “It’s just – I worry, and this guy seems like he’s gonna be a loose cannon.  And it’s weird, not being there.” 

Len hummed quietly, a sound that Barry had come to associate with him thinking.  “It’s certainly quieter around the office,” he said, and Barry felt the back of his neck flush with embarrassment before he realized that Len was teasing him.  “I’ll be careful.  And when you get back, you’re coming to lunch again with Lisa and me.” 

His tone was firm and left no room for argument – ordinarily Barry would have bristled at being told what to do, but this time he found that he kind of liked it.  “As if I’d stay away,” he replied with a smirk.  “Goodnight, Len.” 

“Goodnight, Barry.  Get some sleep,” Len said, and hung up the phone before Barry could say anything snarky in response. 

Barry placed his phone on the coffee table and picked up his mug of tea with a sigh of relief.  That hadn’t been bad at all.  It had actually been kind of fun, once he’d gotten past the initial awkwardness, he reflected as he took a sip of his tea, then wrinkled his nose at the slightly bitter taste.  He uncurled himself from the sofa and padded into the kitchen to retrieve the squeeze bottle of honey and a spoon before calling to Caitlin.  “It’s done!  Painless, just like you said.” 

Caitlin emerged from her bedroom, holding her own mug of tea.  “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise, but you sounded happy,” she said, picking up the remote and turning on the TV as she lowered herself onto the sofa beside Barry.  “I take it the call went well?” 

“Yeah,” Barry replied.  “I got some more information on the meta – apparently the CCPD are tracing him using trackers that are hidden in the stolen cash.  Do you think Cisco or Dr. Wells could get the STAR Labs systems looking for those same trackers?” 

Caitlin’s eyebrows rose.  “I’m sure Cisco would be able to find them, but won’t it look suspicious if the Flash manages to find the meta using the same information that Detective Snart just told you?” 

Barry opened his mouth to protest, but was appalled to realize that Caitlin was right.  There was no way that showing up to a police showdown with the bank robber in his Flash uniform wouldn’t look suspicious – especially since the Flash had already been seen in the same building as the robber once before.  He wasn’t a suspect yet, but showing up in time to interfere with a police investigation would look odd no matter which way Len and the other cops on the Taskforce sliced it. 

In fact, Barry realized, he’d inadvertently made it so that _any_ involvement that the Flash had with the potential sting operation would look suspicious.  He had no other way of finding the metahuman without the tracers, and neither did the CCPD – which meant that unless he came up with a viable second option, or decided to lie straight to Len’s face, he’d have no excuse as to how he’d managed to come across the Metahuman Taskforce and their suspect in the first place.  He didn’t have Cisco’s convenient Flash-tracking algorithm to bail him out this time.  What would Barry be able to do to help if something went wrong? 

Len was careful, and Barry knew that.  He wouldn’t walk into danger knowingly, and he wouldn’t lead his men into harm’s way.  But Len had been caught in the crossfire of a mishandled operation before – suddenly, Barry found himself remembering the situation with Eiling and Bette at the warehouse, and how Len had nearly gotten heatstroke trying to extricate himself from a situation that he’d done nothing to escalate.  If not for his friend Mick’s interference, Len might have been seriously injured, or killed. 

Barry gritted his teeth.  They were still no closer to figuring out how the mystery metahuman’s powers worked, and now he knew that Len and the Metahuman Taskforce were actively looking for this guy – but in getting the information, he’d tied his own hands.  He couldn’t interfere without looking suspicious, but he couldn’t let the Taskforce waltz into an unknown situation without backup. 

He’d backed himself into a corner, except for one option. 

Barry was already kicking himself mentally, even as he picked up the phone.  It was sheer dumb luck that this option even existed at all – if it had been any other week, Barry would have had to solve the problem by himself and then live with the consequences.  But this time, he had an out. 

He’d just have to be sure not to make this mistake again. 

Barry keyed in an unlisted number that he’d committed to memory long ago, bit his lip, and typed his message.  _So I may have fucked up._

Oliver’s reply was immediate.  _What happened?_

 _The CCPD are still after the meta from the bank robbery,_ Barry typed.  _The Flash can’t be seen helping or my secret ID will be at risk.  If they move tonight, can you be there?  A friend might be in trouble._

 _I’ll be there,_ Oliver responded, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief. 

His phone buzzed again, and he looked down.  _But I expect an explanation tomorrow.  And we are training, 0700 hours.  Meet me at the docks, old warehouse section._

Barry sighed and typed out an agreement, then settled back on the sofa, ignoring Caitlin’s questioning glance. 

He did his best to focus on the TV, but he couldn’t help but feel like the impulsive calls he’d made tonight were going to come back to bite him in the ass – or shoot him in the back. 

* * *

Seven AM came far before Barry was emotionally prepared.  As he rolled off the sofa and scrubbed his face clean at the kitchen sink, Barry reflected that two weeks off the job really had left him soft, at least in the getting-up-and-starting-the-day department.  He’d gotten to enjoy the luxury of sleeping in. 

Oliver probably never slept in, he thought to himself ungraciously as he pulled on his coat.  He had a Fortune 500 company to run in addition to his _extracurricular activities,_ so a seven AM wake-up call was probably nothing to him. 

Barry grumbled his way through his morning routine – it didn’t make him get ready any faster, but it made him feel more prepared to act like a decent human being once it became necessary for him to do so.  Oliver was just trying to help, after all, and he had done Barry a solid last night by keeping an eye on the Taskforce.  Barry would have to lay off the internal bitching once he actually got to the docks – but for the time being, he _was_ going to complain. 

Barry was only a few minutes late to the docks, but when he got there he found that Oliver was already waiting, perched atop his motorcycle with his bow and quiver slung across the bike in front of him.  “How is it that even with super-speed you’re still late?” he called to Barry. 

Barry almost responded snappishly, but then realized that Oliver was A) smiling and B) offering him a large coffee.  He accepted the drink gratefully with a smile of his own.  “I guess the super-tardiness sort of cancels it out.  It’s done wonders for my morning commute, though.” 

“I’ll bet,” said Oliver, raising an eyebrow.  “What’s your top speed now?” 

“I’ve broken the sound barrier,” Barry said with a shrug, hoping he didn’t come off as bragging too much.  “But my average speed is closer to five hundred miles an hour.  I still get where I need to go, and I don’t shatter the windows with sonic booms that way.” 

“Always something to be avoided,” said Oliver with another smile, that wry, knowing one that never failed to get Barry at least a little bit hot under the collar.  He resisted the urge to shift his feet or rub the back of his neck – he knew what his tells were, and the last thing he wanted was to have to explain that yes, while Barry would never consider Oliver a viable romantic option, he still noticed that his friend was good-looking.  He was bi, not blind. 

“So – let’s get down to it,” he said, returning the conversation to the matter at hand and _not_ to his apparent propensity for finding older men attractive.  “You said you wanted to train me?” 

Oliver swung off his motorbike, and Barry noted with relief that he’d left his bow and quiver behind.  “I’ve been studying the news records of your fights,” he said without preamble.  “Analyzing the police reports, studying eyewitness testimonies.  Felicity’s also managed to retrieve some security camera footage of you in action, which I’ve taken the liberty of watching.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “Do you sleep?” 

“And I’ve _noticed,_ ” said Oliver, continuing as if Barry hadn’t spoken, “that while you are quite good at casing your environments before a fight begins, you lose track of your surroundings once you’ve engaged your opponent.  You don’t use the terrain to your advantage.  And I’ve yet to see how you perform in a fight that isn’t one-on-one, unless you count the bank heist last night,” he continued.  “So I’ve designed some drills to test that.  This section of warehouses is more or less abandoned – I had my team check the ownership records, and nobody’s been into or out of this particular block for six months.  It’s the perfect venue for what I have in mind.” 

Barry had worked with the Arrow team enough to know that Oliver’s current tone of voice should make him nervous.  “And what exactly do you have in mind?” 

“Let’s call it an obstacle course,” said Oliver with another of his trademark wry smiles.  “You and I will be fighting – no super-speed, no weapons, just hand-to-hand so that I can assess your technique.  While we fight, make sure to keep your attention on your surroundings.  I’ve scattered some traps around the area to test your perception and reflexes – and no, I’m not going to shoot you full of arrows,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall Barry’s protests.  “They’re just motion-activated paintball guns.” 

Barry nodded slowly.  Paintball guns still hurt, but they were probably as tame as he was going to get in a training session with Oliver, so he decided to accept the partial victory.  “That – actually sounds like it’ll be useful.  There’s just two problems,” he said.  “One, I don’t have fancy martial arts training like you.  I’ve been picking up everything on the fly, so me fighting in slow-motion will just look stupid.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” said Oliver.  Barry gritted his teeth a little – that was easier said than done.  “I know you have good technique, but you’ve never been a brawler, and I know you can throw a punch,” he said with another disarming smile.  “I helped teach you.  I just want to see if I can come up with pointers for you to combine your fighting with your speed more effectively.” 

“Alright, that’s fair,” Barry conceded, feeling a bit better about the whole thing.  He knew that Oliver wasn’t the judgmental type, not really, but training with the Arrow had always made him feel self-conscious, even before he had superpowers and a city of his own to protect.  “But the other thing still stands – I’m not getting paintball goop on my clothes.  This is my favorite shirt.” 

“Way ahead of you,” Oliver said with a nod toward his motorcycle.  “Check the side compartment.” 

Barry opened the storage box and saw a white uniform of some sort, neatly folded.  He picked it up and rubbed the fabric experimentally between his fingers – some sort of cotton blend, if he had to guess, probably moisture-wicking.  “Are these workout clothes?” 

“It’s an aikido uniform,” Oliver explained.  “Technically it’s one of my spares, so it might be a bit big on you, but it’ll do for today.  Go get changed and come back out here.” 

“Technically, I could strip and put this on without you even seeing me,” Barry said, allowing himself a cocky grin.  “But I won’t.”  He moved to dart behind one of the warehouses, then froze.  “Wait a minute – why are you taking aikido classes?” 

“Felicity is interested in learning some better self-defense techniques,” Oliver said blandly, his face expressionless.  “We’re taking classes together.” 

Barry’s grin slowly widened.  “You’re taking aikido classes.  You.  Because Felicity asked you to.  Oh my god, do you have a _belt?_ Are they putting you through the belt system?” 

“Let’s just focus on the training exercise,” Oliver said, his smooth expression belying just a hint of irritation.  Barry smirked and hurried to get changed.  He’d have to needle Oliver more about this later, though – there was no way he was just gonna let this go.  _Aikido classes._ Ridiculous. 

Once he’d changed, he returned to the middle of the warehouses where Oliver was waiting for him.  “Once we start, you’ll have a minute to get into your rhythm before the paintball guns start firing.  After that, you’ll have to worry about them as well as me.” 

“I’m not the only one who has to worry, old man,” said Barry, unable to resist indulging in a little pre-asskicking banter.  In all likelihood, _Barry_ was the one about to get his ass kicked – he simply wasn’t a match for Oliver’s skill and experience without the advantage of his speed.  But now that they were back on the training grounds, Barry found that some of his antagonism had evaporated.  He was learning, Oliver was teaching, they were getting along – it was like the best of what Starling City had been, before Barry had started having misgivings about the Arrow’s motives and methods. 

He’d changed his ways while Barry had been in the coma, for the most part – but that had been because Felicity had demanded it. 

When Oliver threw the first punch, Barry saw it coming in a way that he hadn’t been able to before he got his powers.  Spotting the little ways in which Oliver telegraphed his hits was easy with his enhanced reflexes, and Barry sidestepped the blow, not bothering to deflect it.  He did the same with the next few hits, and began to relax and loosen up as he found himself getting into the rhythm of the drill. 

A sharp _hiss_ from somewhere on his left caught his attention, but before he could pinpoint the source of the noise, Barry felt a sudden, sharp pain in his arm.  “What the-”  He broke his rhythm and looked down, and groaned inwardly when he saw that the left sleeve of his uniform was covered in purple paint.  Oliver took advantage of his distraction and managed to land his first hit, a solid one to Barry’s unguarded right shoulder, and Barry was forced to take several steps back in order to regroup. 

“You need to focus, Barry!” Oliver called.  “The point of this exercise isn’t to focus on finding the paintball guns.  It’s to maintain pressure on your target while avoiding damage from other sources.” 

 _I know that,_ Barry thought but didn’t bother saying.  He’d learned better than to interrupt Oliver’s proselytizing – once an exercise was underway, he was essentially deaf to the world until he felt his victim had extracted the appropriate meaning from the lesson.  Instead he refocused his attention on Oliver, gauging him for any weak points that he could exploit. 

The sound of another _hiss_ made him flinch back; he avoided the paintball and Oliver’s fist, but was too slow to avoid the low kick that followed.  Barry wobbled and regained his balance, only to be hit in the side by a red paintball. 

Barry gradually began to get the hang of avoiding the paintballs – their interval wasn’t as random as it had initially appeared, and aside from a few times when he accidentally moved _into_ the path of a paintball, he’d managed to avoid the majority of the damage.  But he had yet to land a hit on Oliver, which he felt pretty confident was the point of the exercise in the first place.  And whenever he did take a hit from one of the paintball guns, Oliver would quickly follow with a blow of his own, often before Barry could react. 

It was irritating – but it was also possible that Barry could use that habit against him.  When he next heard the telltale hiss of the paintball gun, he pretended to look around for the source of the noise instead of simply dodging like he had been.  The paintball impacted in his thigh this time, sending another burst of purple blooming across his leg.  Barry gritted his teeth at the pain, but felt an internal flare of satisfaction when he saw Oliver already making his move, a sharp jab toward his unprotected left side. 

Barry pivoted on one foot and sidestepped the blow, and – with a sense of fierce satisfaction – managed to drive his right fist straight into Oliver’s side, just below the ribs. 

Oliver stumbled from the force of the hit, and he coughed, once.  The sound was enough to make Barry hesitate – Oliver was older than him, and he didn’t heal like Barry did.  Barry didn’t want to do any real damage. 

Oliver took a step toward him, and then staggered as one of the paintball guns shot him in the back.  “Alright, alright!  End training sequence,” he called with a half-laugh. 

The paintball guns stopped firing, and Oliver relaxed his stance.  “That was good!” he said.  “Once you figured out the exercise, you improved, and you managed to get in a good solid hit at the end.  You should keep running that drill with your team, but that’s enough for now.” 

Barry grinned, pleased by the praise.  “I’ll get Cisco to put one of his drones on it.  I think he and Dr. Wells would get a kick out of chasing me around Ferris Air with a paintball gun.”  He took a look down at his white uniform, noting the spread of the paintballs – the front of his uniform was completely clean, but the sides were covered in partially-dried paint of varying colors.    Based on the spread, and on the matching bruises he’d received from Oliver, Barry’s biggest issue with the drill was his tendency to let his guard down when he was hit.   

Oliver nodded, appearing satisfied, before his expression sobered.  “Before we get back to it, I want to talk to you about your request last night.” 

Barry had been internally bracing for this conversation since he’d made the request, but the training bout had distracted him enough that the sudden rush of adrenaline he felt at Oliver’s words caught him by surprise.  “Did anything happen?” 

“There was an incident,” Oliver said, and Barry’s blood ran cold.  “The CCPD’s Metahuman Taskforce tracked the stolen money to a storage unit on the north side of the docks.  They attempted to retrieve the funds but were confronted by the metahuman, who whammied several of the police officers before using the distraction as cover to escape.  The other detectives and I neutralized the affected officers, and once the effects of the meta’s powers wore off, they seemed none the worse for wear.  The stolen currency was recovered, but the metahuman is still at large.” 

Barry gritted his teeth.  It wasn’t good, but at least it hadn’t been a total loss.  “I’m glad nobody was seriously injured.  Thank you.”

Oliver nodded.  “I got a name from the owner of the facility.  The man who rented the storage unit is named Roy Bivolo.  I don’t know whether he’s the man you’re looking for, but it’s at least a starting point.”

“That’s – actually really helpful,” Barry said, surprised.  A name wasn’t much to go on, but hopefully Cisco could work his magic and start investigating their mystery man.  If he was a metahuman, digging into his job and his whereabouts on the night the particle accelerator exploded could provide some clues – and, if he’d been in an accident due to the explosion, it could provide enough information about his origin story to help them determine how the metahuman was inducing rage in his victims.  “I’ll let Cisco know and see what he’s able to dig up.  Next time he shows his face, I’ll go after him myself.  No more clumsy interfering required.” 

“That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Oliver said, looking Barry in the eye.  “Barry, why weren’t you able to shadow the Metahuman Taskforce without risking your secret identity?” 

Barry cringed.  He’d really been hoping that Oliver would forget to ask, but it shouldn’t surprise him that he was unlucky enough to get suckered into two rough conversations in the span of five minutes.  “It’s because of how I got my intel,” Barry said.  “I’m friends with Leonard Snart – one of the detectives on the Taskforce.  He’s the one who told me that they were planning a sting operation.”

“And since the operation wasn’t public knowledge, it would have been suspicious if the Flash showed up.”  Oliver’s mouth thinned into a grim line.  “Barry – I hope I don’t have to point out to you what a bad idea this is.” 

“I mean, I know that,” Barry said, his eyebrows rising slowly.  “Obviously I can’t be getting my information from the police if it could be compromising, but I’m going to figure out some ways around that so this won’t happen again.” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”  Oliver closed his eyes briefly.  “I’m talking about your friendship with Leonard Snart.  It’s clearly beginning to compromise you.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “What the fu – I’m not _compromised,_ Oliver.  We literally work together, and he’s nice, of course we’re going to be friends-”

“It will put your secret identity at risk!” Oliver said, raising his voice to speak over Barry.  “You may be a CSI, but you are also a _vigilante_ , and no matter how well-intentioned your operations, vigilantism is against the law.  You’re creating a conflict of interest for _both of you_ every time you mix your work with your duties as the Flash.” 

“As if me avoiding him at work wouldn’t be suspicious?  His sister is _literally my boss,_ ” Barry said, feeling his temper begin to fray.  “There’s no way in hell I could avoid him, even if I wanted to.  Which, for the record, I don’t.”

Oliver tilted his head slightly, giving Barry the distinct impression that he was being analyzed like a microscope specimen.  “You’re angry, and you’re reacting defensively,” he said.  “That’s because you know I’m right, whether you want to admit it or not.” 

Barry glared at him.  “You want me to admit it?  Fine, then – you’re right!  Being friends with Leonard Snart is stupid,” he said, throwing his hands up.  “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it has, and most of the time it’s a _good thing._ I’m not going to give it up, and you know what?  You can’t demand that I do so,” he continued, beginning to warm to his point.  Oliver opened his mouth to say something, but Barry held up a hand to silence him.  “No.  Training is one thing, lecturing me about being a bad vigilante is another thing, but you don’t get to swan in here from Starling City and start giving me pointers about my personal life.  My friendship with Len is none of your business.” 

“Barry, you haven’t thought this through,” Oliver said, his tone still so smooth and reasonable-sounding – it was infuriating, especially as Barry inched closer to actually losing his temper.  “I’ve been dealing with living a double life for longer than you have, long enough to teach me about the personal consequences of dishonesty.  So Detective Snart is your friend – fine.  But if he finds out you’re the Flash, how much worse will it make the fallout, now that you’ve kept it from him for all this time?” 

Barry sucked in a breath, feeling like he’d just been plunged into ice water.  Fuck – that _hurt,_ because Oliver was right and Barry knew it, but he hated, hated, hated it.  “That’s rich, coming from you,” he snapped, trying desperately to cover his sudden internal turmoil.  “You haven’t come clean to everyone in your life, not by a long shot.  How about you stop patronizing me and spend more time sorting through your own personal demons?” 

Oliver shook his head.  “This isn’t about demons, Barry.  It’s about preventing you from making my mistakes.” 

His eyes were soft and sympathetic, and Barry wanted to crawl out of his skin.  “Well I’ve gotta do something without you holding my hand.  Between you and Dr. Wells, I’m up to my ears in mentors,” he said.  Oliver drew a breath to continue, but Barry shook his head.  “I can’t talk about this anymore – I’m going back to STAR Labs.  Text me once you’ve gotten your head out of your ass.” 

Barry grabbed his bag of clothes and flashed away from the warehouses before he could hear Oliver’s reply.  By the time he found a convenient deserted alley and changed back into his civilian clothes, the worst of his sudden burst of temper had evaporated and was rapidly being replaced by guilt.  He’d been lashing out and reacting defensively, and it had made him say stupid, juvenile bullshit that wasn’t warranted, even if Oliver had been sticking his nose into Barry’s business and saying things that upset him.  He’d have to apologize for that last jab later, but right now he just needed to clear his head and focus on something else – not on Oliver, not on Len – until he stopped feeling so shaken and upset.  Oliver would get that.    

Before banishing the matter from his mind, Barry gave himself one last self-recriminating kick.  Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut in the first place?    

Now, he had to move on to the distraction before he had time to start brooding.  He didn’t _really_ want to go back to STAR Labs, but his spur-of-the-moment excuse to Oliver had been a valid one.  He needed to get the new information about their metahuman bank robber back to his team, so they could start working on how to neutralize Bivolo’s powers.  And he could count on Cisco and Caitlin to distract him from the Oliver situation. 

“I have a name for our metahuman,” Barry said without preamble when he saw his team gathered in the Cortex.  They looked up at the sound of his voice.  “His name’s Roy Bivolo.  Apparently he ducked the police last night at a storage unit he rented – they reclaimed the stolen money, but he’s still on the run.” 

“Which means that in all likelihood, he’ll try again,” Caitlin finished.  “Were you able to get any information on how his powers work?” 

“Um – no,” Barry said, scuffing one shoe awkwardly across the floor.  “My source just gave me a name.” 

“Your source,” said Dr. Wells, peering at Barry over the rims of his glasses.  “Who was your source, exactly?” 

Barry tensed.  “The Arrow.” 

“I thought I told you that I had some reservations about his ability to aid our team.”  Dr. Wells didn’t look angry – in fact, Barry could barely read his expression at all, which in some ways was worse.  Barry felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. 

“I don’t want to debate my working relationship with the Arrow,” Barry said, looking away from his mentor.  He wasn’t going to let himself get drawn into a conversation about Oliver’s shortcomings with a man who barely knew him – especially when Barry was still angry, and therefore more likely to vent when he should be keeping his mouth shut.  “Can we just focus on finding this metahuman?” 

“Sure thing,” said Cisco, his eyes darting between Barry and Dr. Wells.  “Lemme just… aha!”  He smacked the side of the monitor.  “One Roy G. Bivolo.  Apparently he was a freelance artist before the particle accelerator struck.”  After a minute of rapid-fire typing, Cisco pushed his chair back with a satisfied smile.  “I hacked the CCPD databases, and it looks like this is our guy.  CCPD has an active file on him, with an MO that matches the bank heists.  There’s a picture too.  Is this your guy?” he said, gesturing to the computer screen. 

Barry stepped around the desk to take a look.  The photo in the CCPD file was grainy and out-of-focus, but it was definitely the same man that Barry had seen at the bank heist.  “That’s our guy.  Good hacking,” he said, and Cisco beamed.  “Does the CCPD have any idea where Bivolo might be?” 

Cisco’s fingers flew over the keys.  “He’s got a known place of residence.  Apparently he’s renting a small studio apartment on the lower east side.” 

“That’s good enough for me,” Barry said, grabbing the Flash suit off the mannequin.  “I’ll check there, then report back if he’s not home and then we can figure out what to do.” 

“Barry, we still have no idea how his powers work,” Caitlin said, looking alarmed.  “Going after Bivolo right now is dangerous.  We need to do more research.” 

“I can’t wait any longer,” said Barry, shaking his head.  “Bivolo whammied the squad that the CCPD sent after him – they would have shot each other if the Arrow hadn’t shown up to stop it.  I can’t let anyone else get hurt hunting this guy,” he said, thinking of how shitty he would feel if Bivolo got his psychic claws into Oliver, or Len. 

He ran into the side office, changed into his suit, and flashed out of the Cortex before anyone could make any more arguments against his mission.  Yes, it was stupid and ill-conceived, and yes, Oliver would probably kill him for dashing off like this, but he had spent enough time running in circles and clumsily orchestrating things from a distance.  He had to _do something,_ or he was going to lose his mind. 

Besides, Barry reasoned to himself as he ran, Bivolo probably wouldn’t be home anyway.  This would be a simple recon mission – just a way for him to blow off steam. 

When Barry came to a stop outside Bivolo’s apartment building, the first thought that came to his mind was _ugh._ The lower east side wasn’t known for being a great place to live, but this building was one of the shabbiest Barry had seen.  He supposed Bivolo wouldn’t have been able to afford much better, especially if he’d had to stop taking commissions for a while after the particle accelerator had caused whatever accident had led to his origin story.  Barry supposed it explained the bank heists – if he’d been desperate to keep a roof over his head, he’d probably have resorted to more blatant theft himself. 

Barry might have been able to sympathize, if it hadn’t been for Bivolo’s habit of turning innocent bystanders into forced accomplices. 

He edged his way into the building cautiously, eyes darting from one grimy corner to another in anticipation of an attack until he finally reached Bivolo’s door.  He tried the handle warily.  It was unlocked, but a second glance showed Barry that the top latch was being held shut with a padlock.  Maybe the main lock was broken.  Either way, that was good – Barry could vibrate a padlock until it broke, easily, and it was a better option than breaking down a door.  Plus, the apartment was almost certainly deserted – Bivolo wouldn’t have been able to open the door from the inside if he’d padlocked the latch like that. 

Once Barry broke the padlock, he made quick work of searching the apartment.  It was a tiny space, dilapidated like the exterior, but meticulously organized and tidy in spite of its shabbiness.  Bivolo looked like the kind of guy who was used to not having much, but took great pains to take care of what he did have. 

Various works of art were hung on the walls, mostly geometric abstracts done in different shades of the same color.  Barry took a moment to stop and examine the nearest one, a bright orange canvas covered in overlapping triangles.  The date marked it as recent, and the painting was signed “R.G.B” in the same tiny, crabbed script. 

“It’s called ‘Fear,’” said a voice behind him.  Barry whirled around and saw that Bivolo had entered the room behind him – he was wearing the same overcoat that he’d worn to the bank heist, but had removed his sunglasses.  “But orange isn’t really your color.  I prefer you in red.” 

“Bivolo,” Barry said, moving slowly and carefully towards the back window.  He could have kicked himself for letting down his guard – Bivolo must have spotted the broken lock and come in quietly, ready to ambush whoever had broken into his apartment.  But why hadn’t he just whammied Barry from a distance? 

“I remember you from my second heist,” Bivolo said, tilting his head and looking into Barry’s eyes.  “You were angry.  Angry about the heist, that I escaped.  Or, at least you _thought_ you were angry.  But that was just petty frustration.” 

“Don’t come any closer,” Barry said, feeling the hairs prickle on the back of his neck.  There was something about Bivolo’s stare that was rattling him, making him feel unsettled. 

“I don’t need to.  You thought what you were feeling back there was real anger, Flash,” Bivolo said with a smile.  “That’s almost funny.  But there’s more hidden in there than you’ve let yourself feel.  Allow me to help you with that.” 

Bivolo’s gray eyes flashed, and then all Barry saw was red, red, red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... that cliffhanger though... I'm so sorry y'all please don't kill me XD
> 
> The paintings on Bivolo's wall aren't based on any specific works of art. Bivolo painted them with the intent that they'd represent different emotions, and he's got a whole set of them hanging around his apartment. I really like the headcanon that Bivolo can induce multiple emotions via eye contact, and I've always had a really strong association between fear and the color orange, hence the title I picked for that painting!
> 
> Also, if anyone spots the blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to Young Justice, you get a cookie. It's the world's smallest reference, but it made me snicker for about 2.5 seconds when I wrote it.


	20. Tiger By The Tail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter real quick before I run off to bed - I have work in the morning, but I managed to wrangle the rest of this update in time to share it with you all tonight! This chapter was tough for me to write. Emotions running high, interpersonal tensions between the characters, the works. I'd like to extend an extra shoutout to my beta, xerospark, for her patience with me while I was writing this one. Also, many thanks to everyone who left feedback on the previous chapter - your reviews gave me the encouragement I needed to work on the tough scenes, even when I was having trouble making the words come out the way I wanted. 
> 
> I'll stop rambling and let you get to the update! It may have been tough to write, but I'm happy with the results! Another long update for your patience - these chapters just keep getting longer, I swear.

“I’ve run every test I can think of,” Caitlin said, the corners of her mouth turned down unhappily.  “So far, I’ve come up with nothing distinctly abnormal.  Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, but they’re within normal parameters for your physiology.”   

“Huh.”  Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “I guess I wasn’t whammied after all.”  He thought back to his reaction at the apartment complex – panic when he realized what was happening, a brief burst of _oh shit_ at what his team and Oliver would say, and then nothing.  No homicidal rage, no desire to go smashing down the doors of random strangers’ apartments.  Even Bivolo had seem nonplussed by the lack of reaction – he’d stared at Barry in consternation, but by then Barry had already been beating a hasty retreat. 

Which, in hindsight, had been really stupid.  Bivolo’s whammy hadn’t had any effect on him, and he’d basically had the man dead to rights.  And he’d still let him go!  Now Bivolo would have gone to ground properly – finding him again would be next to impossible, and there was no way that he’d be caught skulking around his apartment.  Even the police would have a harder time finding him now, and all because Barry hadn’t planned properly and done the impulsive thing, _again._

“No, dude,” Cisco said, drawing Barry’s attention away from his self-recriminations.  “He definitely got you.  The CCPD has done full work-ups on the police officers who were whammied at the storage unit last night, and they’ve cross-referenced the results with eyewitness accounts from the bank robberies.  All the victims reported seeing the same thing, a bright red light, before they went nuts.”

Caitlin snapped her fingers.  “Of course!  He’s inducing rage by stimulating the centers of your brain that control emotional processing and higher brain functions – the amygdala, maybe the frontal lobe as well.  And he’s accessing those centers via the optic nerve!  There’s a strong association between color and emotion, so the red light you saw was his way of inducing the rage!”

“Alright, then, he did get me,” Barry said, rubbing his eyebrows briefly – he could feel a bit of a headache coming on, probably from the rapid about-face that this topic of conversation had undergone in the past few minutes.  Caitlin’s enthusiasm was usually contagious, but today he just wasn’t in the mood.  “But clearly whatever he did to my lizard hindbrain didn’t work on me.  I feel fine.” 

“Why do you think it didn’t work, though?” Cisco said, tapping a pen against his mouth thoughtfully.  “Figuring that out might help us think of a way to beat this guy.” 

“I have no idea,” Barry said.  “There’s a lot of stuff that doesn’t work on me the way it used to – caffeine doesn’t do anything to me anymore, and neither does alcohol.” 

Cisco’s jaw dropped.  “So wait a second, you can drink all night long and you feel _nothing?_ That’s wild.” 

“It’s not as fun as it sounds,” Barry grumbled.  “Some days a guy just wants a drink, but no.  You’d have seen it for yourself if we ever hung out outside the office.” 

Cisco paused, his finger hovering over the keyboard.  “Say what?” 

Barry wasn’t really sure where the rogue thought had come from, but now that it had entered his brain he couldn’t resist picking it apart and analyzing it further.  “Holy shit,” he said.  “I can’t believe it,” he said, his eyes widening as he took a mental inventory of the history of his friendship with Cisco.  "We’ve been doing this superhero gig for like, four months, and in all that time we’ve literally never done anything together.  And making tracking algorithms at CCPD doesn’t count as spending time outside the office,” Barry said when Cisco opened his mouth to protest.  “That’s just wild,” he continued, feeling more than a little shocked by this massive oversight on both of their parts.  “I mean, it’s not like I’m a party animal, but I do go out.  I like having a night on the town with my friends every once in a while.  And we’ve never done that.” 

“Dude, I had no idea you _wanted_ to,” Cisco said, still wearing that same confused expression.  “I’d love to go hit the town, but you room with Caitlin, not me, so just hit me up and we can-”

“That’s another thing!” Barry said, rounding on Caitlin.  “Why the hell are you so _nice_ all the time?  I literally freeload on your sofa and take up your space – I’d have kicked me to the curb months ago.  Why do you let me just walk all over you?” 

Caitlin glanced at Cisco, then back to Barry, her eyes wide.  “Barry, you don’t walk all over me,” she said slowly.  “I told you, I enjoy your company at the apartment.  It’s been too quiet there since Ronnie died.” 

“It doesn’t mean you need me around to fill the void,” Barry argued.  “I eat all your food and I leave my toiletries laying all over your guest bathroom.  Besides, once you start dating again, won’t it be awkward to have a random patient of yours sleeping on your couch?  How are you gonna explain that when you start meeting other people and bringing them around?” 

Caitlin’s lips pressed together in a thin line, and Cisco’s eyebrows rose.  “Dude,” he said.  “That’s not cool.” 

Barry opened his mouth to protest – because he wasn’t trying to be mean, but Caitlin wasn’t going to do that _forever alone_ thing, was she?  His own life was proof that having feelings for one person forever didn’t work – but before he could press his point, Dr. Wells entered the room.  He’d probably been lured in by the sound of chaos, or by the sound of Barry causing trouble, or maybe a combination of both.  “What seems to be the problem?” he said mildly. 

“There’s no problem,” Barry huffed.  “We were just talking, but I’ve already been checked out and every test in the book has come back negative.  Bivolo’s whammy didn’t affect me.”  Cisco and Caitlin glanced at each other, but before Barry could attempt to decipher their exchange, his phone buzzed in his pocket and distracted him.  He pulled it out and sighed deeply when he glanced at the lock screen – it was Oliver, messaging him about their next training session.  Because the previous one had gone _so_ well.  But at this point, Barry _really_ didn’t want to be at STAR Labs anymore – any second now, Dr. Wells was bound to start in on how Barry had fucked up against Bivolo, and Barry was not in the mood to stick around and deal with the impending lecture.  “Well, this has been fun,” Barry said with a jaunty little wave, “but I’ve gotta go.  The Arrow wants to have another training session, and I’m thinking about taking him up on it.” 

Dr. Wells’ head tilted to one side.  “I see.  Barry, why does the Arrow have your phone number?” 

Out of the frying pan and into the fire – Barry should have known better than to think he’d be able to leave the lab without Dr. Wells criticizing him about _something._ “Because we’ve worked together before, okay?” he said, throwing his hands up in frustration.  “I used to live in Starling City, and I helped him out sometimes.  We’re friends.  You wondered why I trust him, and now you know.  Can you just – lay off for five seconds and actually tell me something useful?”  Dr. Wells’ eyebrows rose fractionally, and Barry wanted to cheer.  His temper tantrum had elicited half a facial expression!  Now they were getting somewhere. 

He decided to press his advantage while the opening was there.  Dr. Wells sitting there and staring at him with that haughty expression wasn’t good enough – Barry wanted him to _react._ “You’re just jealous because someone else is trying to help me, and I’m letting them,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the tiny microexpressions that flicked across Dr. Wells’ face as he spoke.  “But why shouldn’t I?  You’ve been saying all kinds of things about how you were going to help me keep track of Eiling, or help me find out more about Firestorm, but it’s all just talk!  You’ve never actually done any of it!  We just train, train, train, and for what?  I’m _not_ getting faster, and I’m tired of being cooped up in this lab!” 

Now _that_ got a reaction, although not the angry retort he’d been hoping for.  Dr. Wells’ expression smoothed over until Barry couldn’t read his face at all.  “Mr. Allen.  It seems you’re laboring under the impression that I am choosing to deliberately impede your progress,” he said, looking at Barry over the rims of his glasses.  “I can assure you that nothing could be further from the truth.  Your growth and progress are of the utmost importance to me.” 

Dr. Wells’ words were kind, but the sentiment behind them was all wrong – Barry couldn’t detect so much as a glimmer of warmth in his mentor’s voice.  Caitlin and Cisco looked alarmed, but for once Barry found that he was unaffected by Dr. Wells’ stonefaced expression.  Usually it unnerved him when his mentor got like this, but to his pleased surprise, Barry found that he was irritated enough that the behavior didn’t faze him.  “And another thing,” he said, because he never allowed himself to feel this way so he might as well use the opportunity when it was afforded to him.  “Quit doing that ‘Mr. Allen’ thing.  You only call me that when you’re pissed at me, but I’m not going to let you intimidate me into doing what you want.” 

“Intimidation isn’t the purpose of this discussion,” Dr. Wells said, his tone still mild.  Barry was suddenly reminded of his last conversation with Oliver, and the way he’d stubbornly maintained his cool when Barry found himself getting emotional, and found himself wishing he could hit something.  “Need I remind you of our original agreement?  I agreed to provide you with the means to pursue your amateur heroics, in exchange for your cooperation in the study of your – _unique_ physiology.  Your double life as the Flash has begun to interfere with that.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “You think I forgot?  How could I forget - you’ve been doing nothing BUT study me for the past two weeks!  Me being shot has been great for you, hasn’t it?  I’ve been around the lab all the time, doing everything you wanted, but I’m not some guinea pig or lab rat.  I don’t belong to you, and I don’t exist just to further your agenda.” 

Dr. Wells shook his head.  “The only agenda I have, Mr. Allen, is to ensure that you reach your full potential.  You should be aware of that.  Everything that you are is because of me.” 

Barry’s vision tunneled, and for a split second he literally saw red.  For Dr. Wells to somehow assume that he’d _made_ him - “You know what?” Barry snapped.  “Ronnie’s also dead because of you.  Chew on that one before you decide to give me any more shit about how you own me.” 

Dr. Wells’ lip curled minutely, but Barry was gone from the lab before he could hear what else his mentor had to say. 

He halted outside the lab, breathing heavily – it felt like there was a swarm of angry bees under his skin, trapped and buzzing to get out.  He’d never actually fought with Dr. Wells before.  A small part of him was afraid of the consequences, but the majority of him felt exhilarated.  He’d been letting people treat him like shit for too long – if Dr. Wells could dish it out but couldn’t take it, he needed to either re-evaluate the way he talked to Barry or grow some thicker skin. 

Regardless, Barry had to pause and consider his options.  He could hardly go back to STAR Labs now, since he’d just yelled at its owner.  That would probably take some time to cool off, no matter how right or justified Barry had been.  He couldn’t go back to Caitlin’s apartment right now for similar reasons – he hadn’t meant for her to take his offhanded comment so personally, but she had, and he didn’t feel right about going back to take advantage of her hospitality when she was mad at him. 

Actually, he realized with a frown, he’d been left with surprisingly few options.  The CCPD was off limits to him – he was still on paid leave, and Dr. Wells had made sure it would stick.  The buzzing under his skin grew more insistent, and Barry drew in a sharp breath.  Yeah, not the precinct.  He could always seek out Iris – but something inside him dismissed the thought instantly, skittered away from the idea of seeing Iris with a whispered _not when you’re like this_. 

Len he couldn’t even think of going to visit, in uniform or out of it.  The mere thought of his name made Barry’s insides twist with a tumble of conflicting emotions, fear at the forefront but quickly being overtaken by anger. 

God, he was so angry.  Barry pressed the heels of his palms to his eyebrows and tried to _think_ , but the anger was rapidly becoming all there was.  He’d woken up angry, and gotten angrier as the day had progressed – but he was missing something.  There was a part of the equation that was missing, a variable that he’d forgotten, and it was important. 

He took a deep breath and tried to retrace his thoughts.  He couldn’t go see Iris, he knew that much, even if he didn’t know _why._ He couldn’t see Len either – that same little fluttery feeling inside warned him away, although not as insistently as it had with Iris. 

Maybe he could go see Felicity.  He hadn’t talked to her or Diggle in a while, and he had no reason to be pissed at either of them – and he always enjoyed talking about geeky science stuff with Felicity.  Hopefully that would calm him down enough for him to deal with his anger issues in a way that made some actual goddamn sense. 

What he needed was an acceptable target.  And, he thought with a satisfied glance at his phone, Oliver _had_ technically volunteered himself as tribute when he’d suggested that he and Barry have another training session.  Barry would go train, sure – he just wouldn’t hold back this time. 

 _Sound like a plan,_ he texted back.  _And Ollie?  This time I’m gonna kick your ass._

* * *

Len’s day, which had started with such promise, had gone rapidly downhill. 

He’d been in an unusually good mood when he woke up that morning, fueled mainly by Barry’s surprise phone call the night before.  It had been nice enough that even the appearance of a notorious out-of-town vigilante hadn’t been able to entirely kill the buzz. 

By the time the evening shift began, the remainder of Len’s good mood had been drained over the course of the day by a series of, as Lisa so bluntly put it, _messes_.  Their investigation into the metahuman abilities and whereabouts of one Roy Bivolo had rapidly gone from promising to dead in the water.  They’d had multiple leads and potential locations, but none of them had gone anywhere.  Even Bivolo’s apartment had would up a dead end; Len had gone with Detectives West and Thawne earlier that day, signed warrant in hand, but when they’d gotten to the apartment it seemed to have been ransacked.  Furniture had been overturned, paintings had been destroyed, and Bivolo was nowhere to be found.  He’d clearly departed in a hurry, and with his departure they’d lost the last possible lead they had on Bivolo’s location.  They would either have to wait for more information or intercept him at another crime scene, neither of which were options that Len relished. 

Len had seen firsthand the type of threat that Bivolo’s powers presented in a direct confrontation.  He’d nearly been forced to defend himself against his own coworkers once they’d been ensnared.  While he was by no means happy about the Arrow’s presence in Central City, he did feel a grudging sense of gratitude toward the vigilante for interfering fast enough to ensure his men’s safety.  He and Len had been able to subdue them with minimal injury, which Len acknowledged would have been much more difficult on his own. 

All the same, the string of bad news had put Len in what Lisa called _a pissy mood._ Len preferred to think of it as… earned grumpiness.  As day turned to night and nothing new transpired, Len found himself sinking deeper into a state of restless inaction, where he had all the will to go out and start fixing problems but no idea where to begin searching for answers. 

He was debating the relative merits of pacing his office versus putting his feet up on his desk when Lisa burst into the room, looking grim.  “There are reports of a disturbance downtown,” she said.  “Several people have called in about an ongoing confrontation between an armed vigilante and a speedster.  Traffic cameras back up the report.” 

Len sighed inwardly.  Even with that limited intel, he could recognize a description of the Flash.  What other speedsters were there in Central, after all?  “I’ll get West and Thawne.  Where are we headed?” 

“The back streets off of Main,” said Lisa, levying him a sympathetic look that confirmed his concerns.  “Lenny – I know this is going to suck for you, but do what you have to do.” 

“I will,” Len said, pushing his chair out from the desk and rising to his feet. 

As he collected Detectives West and Thawne and made his way to the squad cars, Len’s mind was racing.  The Flash had gone to ground after the Tony Woodward case.  He’d stayed off the police’s radar, but there had been numerous reports of the vigilante stepping up his activities, particularly in the past two weeks.  He’d been credited with interference at several fires, car wrecks, and other accidents, and witnesses had in all cases been grateful for his help.  Len hadn’t been able to suppress the glow of pride he’d felt at the reports of Flash’s newfound helpfulness, and he’d hoped that the speedster had turned a corner in his dealings with civilians and the law. 

So why the sudden backslide?  It went against the grain of the Flash’s recent good behavior, but it also seemed out of character for the vigilante.  Even in his initial fight against the Flash, the speedster had chosen to remove the conflict to a rooftop, an isolated location with little risk of bystander interference or oversight.  He’d shown the same cautious pattern since then, and had only ever abandoned it at Len’s direct encouragement. 

He didn’t share his thoughts with West or Thawne, but privately Len vowed to get to the bottom of this, if he had the opportunity.  He didn’t want to give up on the Flash just yet, he realized with an odd prickle of discomfort.  Somewhere along the line, he’d become invested in this kid. 

When they arrived on Main Street, Detective West pulled the car into a side alley and removed the key from the ignition.  They hadn’t used the lights or the sirens, not wanting to alert the Flash and his opponent to their presence. 

“We’ll split up and search,” Len said, looking around at the quiet alley.  “I’ll take the block to our left, the two of you take the block to our right.” 

“What if you need backup?” Thawne said, looking worried. 

“Then I’ll call you,” Len said.  He removed his gloves and slid them into his vest pocket.  “If you find anything, you do the same for me.” 

“We aren’t necessarily here to arrest anyone, are we?” West asked, and Len glanced at him.  There was a slight furrow in the detective’s forehead that Len rarely saw.  It looked like concern, possibly indecision, and privately Len felt relieved.  He couldn’t tell if Thawne was on the same page, but at least Detective West seemed to share his own misgivings about the situation. 

“That will depend on what we see,” Len said.  “But it might not come to that.  Regardless, we should be careful.” 

Len knew he had to keep his wits about him as he searched his block for anything out of the ordinary.  Unless he’d left the area, which was possible, the Flash was out here somewhere.  Len hoped that the speedster wouldn’t attack him, but he’d told West and Thawne to be careful and he was hardly going to make himself a hypocrite by refusing to do the same.  He allowed ice to bleed into his fingertips, suppressing a shiver as the cold rose to the surface of his skin. 

The goosebumps were a mildly unpleasant side effect of his powers, but his body acclimatized quickly, and Len was used to it.  But as he walked through the dark alleys, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise for a different reason. 

He was being watched. 

Len glanced around surreptitiously before raising his gaze to the roofline.  There – a flicker of movement, not much but enough to confirm his suspicion.  He had a shadow.  “I can see you,” he said calmly, preparing to fire an ice bolt if the unknown figure attempted to attack him. 

Fortunately, the person on the rooftop didn’t fire.  They sat up a bit until Len could clearly see the silhouette of their head, and for a moment neither of them moved.  Then the figure spoke.  “Detective Snart,” he called down, and Len’s stomach sank.  He recognized that deep, mechanically-modified voice from the storage unit last night.  “Is that you?” 

“It’s me,” Len replied, because there was no point in denying his identity when the Arrow was looking right at him.  “What are you doing here?” he said, although he had a suspicion.  The Flash had been seen fighting an armed vigilante, after all. 

“The Flash is in trouble, and you’re in danger,” the Arrow said instead of answering Len’s question.  “I can give you more information, but you need to climb the fire escape.  I managed to give him the slip, but he could be along at any moment.” 

Len wanted nothing to do with the vigilante, but he couldn’t refuse the offer of information, and the Arrow hadn’t pulled a weapon on him yet.  Reluctantly, he began to climb the fire escape, taking his time and moving slowly so that his footsteps didn’t echo against the metal.  The Arrow giving the Flash the slip did not bode well. 

The Arrow nodded when he saw Len on the rooftop, and gestured to the rooftop next to him.  “You need to stay down,” said the Arrow.  “We need to stay out of sight.” 

Len gritted his teeth but complied, edging slightly closer when he saw that the Arrow’s weapon was within arm’s reach but not in his grasp.  “What happened?” he said instead.  “Did the Flash attack you?”

“It isn’t his fault.  He’s been whammied by Bivolo,” the vigilante said, and Len felt some of the tension leak out of his shoulders at the mixed news.  “One of my associates reported to me that the Flash was behaving strangely, and other sources have confirmed that the Flash was whammied at approximately two in the afternoon.”

Len frowned thoughtfully, processing the evidence.  A speedster under the influence of Bivolo’s rage-inducing powers was undoubtedly dangerous, but the Arrow’s report confirmed that other forces were at play here.  Len was relieved to know that the Flash wasn’t entirely in control of his actions.  He’d hoped that the younger metahuman’s days of assaulting strange men on rooftops was behind him for good, but at least there seemed to be extenuating circumstances.

“Bivolo’s place was in shambles when the CCPD stopped by,” Len contributed, remembering the mess he’d seen at Bivolo’s apartment.  “There could have been a struggle.”  It had been after two in the afternoon when they’d arrived with the warrant, so the events that the Arrow was describing were plausible. 

Then he frowned, because something wasn’t adding up.  “I thought the effects of Bivolo’s powers were supposed to wear off quickly.  According to your report, Flash has been like this for hours.” 

The Arrow nodded without looking at him.  “Our best guess is that his powers are interacting with Bivolo’s, delaying the effects of the rage.  Do you have anyone else out here with you?” 

“Two other detectives from the Metahuman Taskforce,” Len replied. 

“Tell them to stay on guard but not to come any closer,” the Arrow said.  “I’m the Flash’s primary target, and he’s making a game out of the hunt.  With any luck he’ll ignore them and focus his attention on me, leaving you an opening to attack while his back is turned.  He’s single-minded when he has a target.” 

 Len gave the vigilante a hard look.  “I’m assuming you’re about to advise me against trying to talk him down.” 

“It won’t work,” said the Arrow, breaking eye contact.  “It would probably escalate the situation.  We need to incapacitate him before we can do anything to help him.  I have people working on a solution, but we need to keep him contained in this area by any means necessary until they arrive.” 

Len bit back an ugly retort at the Arrow’s use of the phrase _by any means necessary._ “And if we injure him?” he said instead.  “What then?”    

“Our primary concern should be what he’ll do to us,” the Arrow said, ignoring Len’s glare.  “The Flash has a healing factor.  He’ll recover from any injuries he receives within a matter of hours.” 

Len’s eyes narrowed, remembering his conversation with the Flash before the speedster had confronted Woodward at Carmichael Elementary School.  The Flash had told him that he healed fast when Len had asked the speedster about his injured ribs at Jitters, but he had no idea how quickly that healing factor worked.  It was impressive.  He couldn’t help but wonder how the Arrow had known.  It explained the vigilante’s flippancy about injuring the speedster, although it didn’t make his attitude any more palatable to Len.  The kid still felt pain, no matter how quickly he healed. 

Len sighed inwardly and forced himself to set the argument aside.  As much as he disliked it, the Arrow’s strategy was viable and would prevent the situation from escalating further.  “Why should I let you use yourself as a target?” Len said instead of continuing to criticize the vigilante’s approach. 

The Arrow chuckled quietly, and his voice modulator turned the sound into a mechanical-sounding buzz.  “It’s me he’s angry with,” the Arrow said, and Len finally realized what else about the green-clad vigilante was so off-putting.  It was his voice modulator.  The deep, artificially-masked buzz reminded Len of the vibrating quality of the Flash’s voice, and he doubted that it was a coincidence.  The Arrow understood Flash’s powers, and could predict his reactions.  That spoke of far more than passing familiarity.  Flash and the Arrow had some sort of history, and Len didn’t like it.  “I offered him some constructive criticism this morning, and he seems to have taken it to heart,” the Arrow said, confirming Len’s suspicions.  “I’m his target, and it would be best if we kept you out of sight.  He won’t want you to see him like this.” 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  “And how would you know that?” 

The Arrow turned to look Len in the eye.  “He might not always show it, but the Flash thinks very highly of you,” he said quietly.  “He wants you to think well of him.  He’ll be upset enough about what he’s done under Bivolo’s influence without worrying that he’s changed that opinion.” 

Len was shocked and unexpectedly touched.  The Flash thought highly enough of him to mention him to his vigilante friends? 

It was high praise, and it only increased Len’s resolve to get to the bottom of what had happened.  If he could corroborate the Arrow’s story with evidence, it would at least help keep the Flash’s name from being dragged through the mud by what he’d done under the influence. 

Len was about to ask the Arrow how he and the Flash knew so much about each other, but a sound from the end of the alley made him pause. 

“I know you’re out here!” called a voice that Len knew all too well.  The hairs rose on the back of his neck as he saw the Flash come sauntering out of the shadows at the end of the alley.  The speedster was walking at a normal pace, turning every so often to scan the area, and out of the corner of his eye Len saw the Arrow reach for his bow.  “You can’t hide forever!  Don’t you want to come out and keep teaching me that lesson?” 

Len frowned and analyzed the speedster as he approached.  The Flash’s stance and the way he was holding his arms radiated aggression, but it wasn’t the mindless frenzy that had overtaken Bivolo’s victims at the bank robberies.  It was more controlled and calculated, and would have seemed dispassionate if not for the slightly feral grin on the speedster’s face.  The cocky, enthusiastic meta that Len had grown fond of wasn’t home, and Len felt the last of his doubt drain away.  He pulled out his cell phone, turning the brightness down on the screen as much as possible, and sent his partners a text containing his location and an explanation of the situation. 

He heard a few quiet swishes and the creak of bending leather, and looked up from his phone in time to see the Arrow swinging down from the rooftop onto the fire escape.  “Flash, this needs to stop,” he said, raising his voice so that it echoed down the alley.  “Your people will be here soon.  They’ll be able to help you.” 

“You’re the one who needs help,” the Flash retorted, shaking his head.  He approached the Arrow slowly, his speed still measured, and Len willed more ice into his fingertips.  “This isn’t so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?” the speedster continued conversationally.  “You were fine with kicking my ass six ways to Sunday, but when push comes to shove you don’t have a chance in hell against me if I decide I don’t want to hold back anymore.” 

The Arrow took several steps backward, maneuvering himself “The point of training isn’t to find out who’s stronger.  It’s to teach each other what we can do to improve.” 

“I’ll teach you to shut the hell up.” 

The Flash blurred into motion faster than Len’s eye could follow, crossing the fifty feet of space separating him and the Arrow before Len could so much as raise his hand to fire a shot.  The Arrow was knocked to the ground, and the speedster delivered a single kick to his ribs before taking a step back.  “Waiting on you.” 

The Arrow clambered unsteadily to his feet, then lunged forward in a strike that would have hit the Flash in the side if the speedster hadn’t deftly stepped out of range.  “See what I mean?” he said conversationally before grabbing the Arrow’s arm and throwing him to the ground.  “I really am fine.” 

“Stop talking,” the Arrow grunted, jabbing the Flash in the thigh with an arrow from his quiver.  The Flash yelled and dropped to one knee.  “That was six hundred milligrams of horse tranquilizer,” he said, pushing himself back onto his feet while the speedster visibly shuddered on the ground.  Len clenched his fists, a sudden surge of alarm causing icicles to form on his wrists and fingers.  A dose that high could stop a man’s heart. 

The kid didn’t seem to be going down, though.  He was actually forcing himself to his feet in spite of his labored breathing.  Len’s eyes widened as the Flash started to _vibrate_ , a fine green mist rising from the surface of the red suit.  He was venting the tranquilizer from his system.  Len had no idea that the speedster was capable of something like that, and for once the Arrow seemed to be at a loss as well.  The green vigilante wasn’t readying another shot, and the steady trickle of mist was beginning to dissipate.  Their brief reprieve was almost up. 

If anything was going to be done, it looked like it was going to be up to Len.  He took a deep breath, raised a hand, and fired. 

The Flash looked up at the sound, and sidestepped so that the ice bolt impacted on the asphalt barely a foot away from where he was standing.  “You brought backup!” he said, turning to look at Len with a grin that was so decidedly _off_ that Len felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. 

Before he could do anything, the speedster was on him.  Len felt his arm being wrapped in a crushing grip before his world turned upside down and he was being pressed into the roofing shingles.  “Look at you!” the Flash crowed.  “Up on a rooftop, helping a vigilante you don’t even know!  Why would you even listen to him when you know about all the horrible things he’s done?”  Len’s head spun again, and felt the breath leave his lungs as he was slammed into a wall. 

“You always do this!” the Flash yelled, his face just inches from Len’s.  “You just – trust people you know nothing about, people who don’t even deserve it!  And look what it’s gotten you.  You should never have trusted me!” 

Len looked into the Flash’s face, contorted with rage, and felt a pang of regret.  “Sorry, kid,” he said, and grabbed the speedster’s arms. 

For a brief second, Len felt a tingling sensation like an electric shock.  Then, cold erupted from his fingertips, traveling down the Flash’s arms and encasing them in solid ice. 

The Flash gasped and recoiled, dropping Len and staggering back.  Len didn’t give him time to adjust to the sudden temperature shock.  He fired again, encasing the speedster’s feet in ice and trapping him in place. 

“Good!” the Arrow shouted; Len saw him approach, stiff from his injuries but still hurrying toward the speedster, who was struggling to get free.  “My people are almost here, but we have to hold him!” 

Len heard the sound of squealing tires, rapidly growing closer; presumably that was the Arrow’s _associates._ He shot more ice at the pavement, covering the portions that had begun to steam as the Flash tried to vibrate his way free. 

A white van skidded to a stop at the end of the alley, and a blonde woman hopped out of the passenger seat.  “Turn him this way!” she shouted. 

The Arrow grabbed the Flash, putting him in a headlock and turning him toward the van just as a blinding cacophony of lights strobed out from some sort of panel.  Len was forced to turn away, shielding his eyes from the light. 

When the glare faded, Len uncovered his eyes in time to see the Flash topple, awkwardly falling backward and landing on his rear.  “Ugh,” he groaned.  “That’s gonna be one hell of a headache.”  He sounded like he was back to his normal self, and inwardly Len breathed a sigh of relief.  An enraged Flash was not something that Len wanted to deal with for an extended period of time.  Their brief clash had been painful enough. 

The Arrow put a hand on the Flash’s ice-covered shoulder.  “It’s over,” he said.  “You’re going to be fine now.” 

“Yeah, I- ”  The Flash paused and looked down at his hands.  “Oh god.  My hands – what did I do?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” the Arrow said, holding up a hand in an obvious attempt to look placating. 

“That isn’t reassuring!”  The Flash scooted as far away from the Arrow as his frozen feet would allow.  “Where is Detective Snart?  _What did I do?_ ”

The kid’s hands were vibrating, sloughing off chunks of ice, and Len could hear his voice edging into the rough register of ‘panicked.’  He stepped forward, hands held out in front of him.  “I’m here, Flash.  A bit banged up, but no harm done.” 

“Oh thank god.”  The Flash’s shoulders slumped.  “Did – did I say anything awful to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before, kid.”  Len saw the Flash take a deep breath and let it out, slowly, and felt a pang of sympathy.  Flash’s perception of himself as untrustworthy reminded him of what Len and his sister had been like, when they’d been younger.  And it said a lot, that the person he’d been quickest to blame when he’d been enraged beyond the point of control and had Len at his mercy had still been himself. 

“And you aren’t going to take me away for being a public menace?”  The Flash looked up at him, his face and body blurring more until Len couldn’t make out his features at all. 

“Not today,” Len said.  He pretended not to notice that the Flash’s vibrating was cracking the ice that bound his feet to the pavement.  The speedster’s attempts at subtlety were cute, and there was no need to call attention to the transparent escape attempt since he fully intended to let Flash go anyway. 

“Okay.  That’s - okay.  I’m glad.”  The Flash took a deep breath and turned and looked at the Arrow.  “Can we have a minute?” he said to the other vigilante before returning his gaze to Len. 

The Arrow nodded and headed toward the van.  Len watched him go before looking back at the Flash.  “What’s eating you?” 

Flash’s vibrating slowed until only his face was indistinct.  He took a deep breath.  “I think we need to stop seeing each other.” 

Len blinked.  That… wasn’t what he’d been expecting.  “Care to enlighten me?” 

“I appreciate that you’re letting me go.  But you shouldn’t,” the Flash said.  “You treating me like this – it’s unethical.  Whether I was whammied by Bivolo or not, I could have hurt you or anyone else out here, but you didn’t treat me like a threat.  Technically, our – friendship – it’s a conflict of interests.” 

For once, Len found himself at a loss.  “Do you want me to leave you alone?” he finally said.  “Or are you doing this because you feel like you have to?” 

The Flash dropped his gaze for a second.  “I don’t want this,” he finally said.  “But it doesn’t matter whether I feel like I have to or not.  We both know it’s the right thing to do.”

For a few seconds, they stared at each other.  Len could have done something.  He could have frozen the speedster’s boots to the ground again, or called his team for backup.  He could have called the station to put out an APB on the white transport van so that they could find the speedster later.  He could have touched the Flash’s shoulder and explained that he wanted to help him, convinced him that the trust he had in him wasn’t ill-deserved. 

But he didn’t do anything.  The moment passed, and the Flash gave him a nod and a tight-lipped smile before bolting for the van.   

The blonde-haired woman slid the door shut behind him, and Len reflexively noted the license plate information – a Missouri plate, 552 ELE.  He wasn’t going to go out looking for it, but.  If it showed up again, he’d know.

He shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief second before reaching for his walkie-talkie.  “This is Detective Snart,” he said.  “Situation is under wraps.” 

Detective West responded immediately.  “Did you find the Flash?” 

“I did.  He’s no longer under Bivolo’s control, but he’s gone,” Len said, wincing internally at his own abbreviated description of the events of the past hour.  This police report was going to be hell to write. 

He needed an ice-cold bourbon, and a talk with his sister.  And not necessarily in that order. 

* * *

“That’s all he said?” Lisa said, frowning.  “That helping him was a conflict of interests and you should stay away from him?” 

“Yep,” Len sighed.  He knew the Flash was right.  He’d given the speedster leeway that he wouldn’t have allowed on his other cases; he’d even given the Flash his _phone number._

But he still couldn’t bring himself to regret it. 

Lisa slid him the bottle of bourbon, and Len poured himself another glass, smaller than the first.  He wasn’t in the mood for a hangover the next day, and he still had to get himself home.  At least Lisa’s company ensured that he wasn’t drinking alone.  “Why do I feel like I’ve been dumped?” he said after a moment’s pause.  “All the kid said was that we shouldn’t be friends.” 

Lisa refilled her own glass.  “Because you felt a connection with him, Lenny.  Young, skittish, from the wrong side of the law but still a good person at heart?  He reminded you of us.” 

Len sighed.  “It isn’t just that.  I thought I was getting through to him – that he trusted me.  But it wasn’t enough.” 

“Maybe it isn’t enough yet, but you did your best,” Lisa said, resting a hand on his arm just above the place the Flash had bruised.  “Sometimes, that’s all you can do.  You said yourself that he doesn’t hate you – he’s just scared.  Just give it time.  If Flash needs you, he knows where to find you, and in the meantime you have a job to do.” 

Len’s mouth quirked up at the corners.  “Don’t remind me,” he said.  “We still don’t have any leads on Bivolo.” 

“Damn.  You’re right.”  Lisa sat back on the couch and lifted her glass.  “Here’s to another long day in Central City.” 

“I’ll drink to that.”  Len clinked his glass against hers and took a long sip. 

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and reluctantly he reached for it.  His reticence evaporated when he saw the name on the lock screen. 

“I know that look,” Lisa said, leaning over with a smirk.  “What does Mister Allen have to say this evening?” 

Len opted not to respond to Lisa’s teasing, instead unlocking his phone and reading Barry’s message.  “He’s coming back to work,” he told Lisa. 

“What?” Lisa said, her eyebrows rising almost to her hairline.  “But it’s barely been two weeks since he got shot.” 

“He says he’s going stir-crazy at home,” Len said, feeling another tiny smile start to form at the corners of his mouth and not bothering to tamp it down.  “His doctor isn’t happy with him, but she cleared him to come back to the station in a day or two, as long as he doesn’t do anything strenuous.” 

“Well that’s just the thing to take your mind off the Flash,” Lisa said, clapping Len on the arm and looking apologetic when he winced at the contact.  “Sorry, forgot about the bruise.  But tell Barry that he’s coming to lunch with us when he gets back, and that’s an order.” 

Feeling better about the night already, Len obediently began to pass the message along. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the crossover episode is almost at an end! There'll be one more chapter, then it's onto episode nine. ^^
> 
> Brief note about the license plate number I picked for the STAR Labs van - I looked at all the screenshots I could find, but I couldn't see a license plate in any of them, so I made up my own. I looked up the format for current Missouri license plates, since Central City is supposedly in Missouri according to the DC Comics wiki, and used that format - three letters, three numbers. The 552 is a New 52 joke, and for the three letters, I asked my beta for the first three-letter acronym she could think of. She immediately responded with ELE, which stands for Extinction-Level Event. I'm not sure what that says about her, but I thought it was funny, so I guess that says something about me as well. XD 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! <3


	21. Danger Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update! I had a lot of fun with this one, as can be evidenced by the fact that it's been less than two weeks since the last update? Am I developing good writing habits this summer??? Stranger things have happened, I guess. 
> 
> I don't have much in the way of author's notes this week, but as always, I wanted to thank my readers for sticking with this whopper of a fic - it's nearly at 100k words. O.O And thank you to those of you who reviewed! I'll be replying to your comments after dinner, but I'm excited to share this chapter so I'm posting it earlier in the evening than usual.

Barry spent the ride back to STAR Labs wallowing in a stomach-churning mixture of pain, dizziness, and guilt.  The memory of what he’d done under Bivolo’s influence was gradually beginning to trickle back, although his recollection of the past few hours was still buried underneath a haze of anger and general confusion that seemed unlikely to dissipate any time soon.  Barry found that he was actually grateful for the lack of clarity – it leant a surreal feeling to what had happened, as if it had happened to someone else. 

Eventually he’d have to start processing.  But not yet. 

For now, he had more pressing concerns – like what the hell had happened to his body while he’d been pummeling the shit out of his friends.  He had a stab wound in his thigh, his knee hurt like a bitch, and he could still feel the cold burns that Len’s ice had left on his arms and torso.  Caitlin had peeled him out of the suit while Cisco made the getaway, but Barry hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at the extent of the damage. 

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the van, offering no resistance when Caitlin started dabbing antiseptic on the worst of the injuries.  Nudity was the least of his concerns right now – he’d made such an ass of himself in front of his friends that he wasn’t sure he could get more embarrassed than he already was. 

God, his arms burned.  He was just thankful that Len had actually defended himself when Barry had attacked him – at least he hadn’t been stupid and tried to talk him down like Oliver, he’d actually done what he had to do –

Barry forced himself to open his eyes and look up at Caitlin.  “Distract me,” he said.  “I can’t think about what just happened right now or I’m going to completely freak out.  Just until we get back to STAR Labs,” he said, a hint of desperation leaking into his tone. 

Caitlin nodded and gave Barry a smile that he probably didn’t deserve.  “We can do that.” 

“Oh, definitely!” Cisco called from the driver’s seat.  “I need to know all your favorite sci-fi movies.  Like, I want a comprehensive list.  Or how about this – I’ll tell you what my favorite movies are, and then you tell me if you’ve seen them or not.” 

Barry blinked.  “Yeah, sure, but – why?” 

“Because we need to hang out more, that’s why!” Cisco said, his grin wide enough that Barry could glimpse a sliver of it in the rearview mirror.  “You said it yourself, and it’s true.  And sci-fi movie marathons are great for bonding.” 

“I don’t remember saying that,” Barry said with a puzzled frown. 

“It was while you were whammied,” Cisco said, sounding apologetic.  “But we aren’t talking about that right now!  Movie list, let’s go – have you seen _Back To The Future?”_

Barry nodded, then remembered that Cisco was supposed to be keeping his eyes on the road.  “Yeah, it was campy but pretty good.”    

“Sweet.  What about _Terminator?_ ”

Barry nodded.  “The first one, yeah, but not any of the sequels.”

“That’s fine,” Cisco said.  “Well, scratch that, you really should see the second one, but the rest of the franchise wasn’t as solid.  What about Star Trek?  Not the reboot, I’m talking the original series.” 

 “I’ve seen them,” Barry said, remembering, with an unexpected flash of nostalgia, the first time he’d watched the TV show with Martin and Clarissa.  It hadn’t been long after they’d formally adopted him, when he’d still been thinking of his new living situation as a pragmatic and temporary solution to foster care until his dad got out of prison.  “It was one of my foster dad’s favorite shows when he was a kid.  We watched it together.  It was – bonding time.”  He stopped, wrapping the arm that Caitlin wasn’t doctoring around his knees as a lump formed in his throat.  Caitlin gave him a sympathetic smile, touching a relatively undamaged part of his shoulder with cool fingertips but otherwise giving no sign that she’d witnessed his distress. 

Cisco still picked up the change in the mood, though – Barry saw the look in his eyes grow more somber in the rearview mirror.  “I’m sorry, dude,” he said.  “Did you guys have a favorite Star Trek movie?” 

“ _First Contact_ was Martin’s favorite,” Barry said, smiling faintly at the memory.  “He would always tear up a little bit when the Vulcans showed up.  But I really liked _Wrath of Khan_.” 

“Yes!” Cisco shouted.  “That scene with Spock kills me every time.  You know the one.  ‘I am, and always shall be-”

“-Your friend,” Barry finished, smiling.  That scene had always made him think of Iris as a kid – the only friend he had who’d stood by him through everything.  Now, he realized with a hint of surprise, he might have more than one of those. 

“Well I happen to _love_ the new movies,” said a new voice, causing Barry to jump out of his skin.  He swiveled toward the back of the van, and his jaw dropped when he saw Felicity sitting next to a giant piece of equipment near the doors.  “It was a clever reboot of the franchise that didn’t sacrifice the history of the original for the sake of telling their story.  Plus Chris Pine is _very_ easy on the eyes.” 

“What the – _Felicity?_ ” Barry said, still trying to figure out how she’d even gotten in the van.  “What – how are you here?  I thought Dr. Wells wanted nothing to do with you guys.” 

“He saw the light once I offered to help Cisco and Caitlin undo whatever Bivolo had done to you,” Felicity explained.  “I went to STAR Labs as soon as you left Jitters.  He let me in once I told him that you’d been acting strange on our coffee date,” Felicity said before her eyes widened.  “Not that we were on a date!  We were just catching up!”

Caitlin tapped his shoulder gently; Barry turned and saw, with pleased surprise, that she was holding out a STAR Labs t-shirt for him to put it on.  He pulled it over his head gratefully, wincing a bit at the feeling of the fabric on his chest but relieved to be covered up again.  “To be honest, I don’t exactly remember our coffee date clearly so I’m not in a position to argue with you.” 

 Felicity was still a bit red from her blunder, but she grinned, clearly not minding the teasing.  “Well if it’s any consolation, the meanest thing you said to me was that I deserved better than, and I quote, ‘putting up with the Arrow’s bullshit.’  Which, honestly, I love the man but you’re right.” 

“Really, dude, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” Cisco said, smiling again.  “You accused Caitlin of being too nice and angrily told me that we needed to hang out more.  It’s not like you were some unstoppable rage machine,” he said with a conciliatory look. 

Barry sighed, unable to completely share Cisco’s good mood.  “For you, maybe.  I don’t even want to know what I said to Dr. Wells.” 

The van jerked, and Cisco chuckled weakly.  “…yeah, okay, that was something else.” 

“Oh god,” Barry groaned, fighting the urge to bury his head in his hands.  “He’s gonna kill me.”

“You really let him have it,” Cisco said.  “I was scared for my life, but it was honestly pretty impressive.”

“Not helping!” Caitlin said, glaring at Cisco’s chair for a second before returning her attention to Barry.  “Although Cisco is right.  I don’t think anyone’s yelled at Dr. Wells like that since Hartley,” she continued thoughtfully, glancing at Cisco in the rearview mirror. 

Barry tilted his head, surprised by the unfamiliar name.  “Wait, hold on a second.  Who’s Hartley?  I’ve never heard you guys mention him.”

“Hartley Rathaway,” Cisco said with a dramatic sigh.  “He was Dr. Wells’ golden boy while we were building the particle accelerator.  Right up until Dr. Wells fired him.” 

“Yikes.  And what exactly happened to Hartley after that?” Felicity said, raising an eyebrow. 

Caitlin opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated.  “We don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Felicity said, her eyebrows crawling further into her hairline.  “Is he, like… alive?” 

“Oh my – _yes_ he’s alive, it isn’t like Dr. Wells threw him off the roof.  We just… didn’t keep in touch,” Caitlin said. 

“He was a dick,” Cisco added helpfully. 

Barry couldn’t help but chuckle, and felt more of the tension drain from him at the easy, joking atmosphere in the van.  He was slowly beginning to realize that, as impossible as it felt, his friends really weren’t mad at him for what he’d said and done under Bivolo’s influence.  He still had Dr. Wells to contend with, and thinking about Len was still _very_ much out of the question at this point, but he had Cisco, Caitlin, and Felicity right here with him and they didn’t hate him.  It was enough, for now. 

They piled out of the van in the STAR Labs garage, Barry leaning heavily on Felicity.  His leg still hurt like hell, but the itching sensation in his thigh told him that it was healing.  He looked at his arms and hands, and frowned – the frostbite had started to disappear, but they were more superficial injuries than the stab wound in his thigh.  They should have been healing faster.  “We’re going to give me a look-over in the Cortex, right?” he said to Caitlin. 

“Of course,” she said with a quick nod.  “We need to make sure that Bivolo’s influence has been purged from your nervous system, and I need to take a look at your leg.” 

“Okay – good,” Barry said.  “While we’re at it, can we look at this frostbite?  It should be healed by now, but it isn’t.”

 “You’re right,” Caitlin said, pausing to take a closer look at Barry’s arm.  “It could be a lingering effect of Bivolo’s powers, suppressing your metabolic rate.” 

Barry frowned.  “I thought you said the whammy had been reversed.” 

“I did, but it can’t hurt to double check,” said Caitlin with a single decisive nod.  “You can never be too careful.”

“Wise words indeed,” said a voice from the end of the parking garage.  Barry’s stomach dropped – Dr. Wells was waiting for them by the elevator, looking calm, composed and surprisingly awake in spite of the fact that it was nearly midnight.  “Barry,” he said with a tiny smile that took Barry by surprise.  “Good to have you back.” 

“It’s good to be back,” Barry said, peeling himself away from Felicity even though his leg twinged under the strain of bearing his weight.  He didn’t want to show weakness, even if Dr. Wells didn’t seem angry with him at first glance.  “Hopefully there’s not too much mess to clean up here,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension with a joke. 

Dr. Wells inclined his head almost imperceptibly.  “Don’t worry about the mess, Barry,” he said.  “What’s most important is that we get you back up to speed.” 

Barry suspected that Dr. Wells had made the pun on purpose, trying to put him at ease, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile or laugh.  It was too abrupt a reversal from his previous behavior, and besides, the pun just reminded him of Len.  “Yeah.  Let’s do that.” 

An awkward silence fell.  “Well,” Felicity said, fidgeting beside Barry, “I’m going to just… be on my way.  Nice to meet you, Dr. Wells.” 

“A pleasure, Miss Smoak.”  Dr. Wells nodded to her, then turned his wheelchair away and began moving toward the elevator.  Barry glanced at Cisco and Caitlin, then turned to wave a goodbye at Felicity before following. 

“You didn’t have to send her away,” he said to Dr. Wells, uncertain as to why he was pushing his luck but feeling like it needed to be said.  “She helped get me free of Bivolo’s influence – you can’t really think she’s untrustworthy after all that.” 

Dr. Wells looked up at Barry, arching one eyebrow smoothly.  “I never said that I considered her untrustworthy, Barry,” he said.  “I know how closely you scrutinize the people who matter most to you.  I only suggested that she had secrets of her own.  And surely,” he added with a tiny smile, “she’ll want to see to her own injured friend.  I doubt the Arrow managed to escape unscathed from his encounter with you.” 

Barry cringed at the reminder.  His memory of the fight was hazy, but he did remember the rage – wanting to hurt Oliver, to teach him a lesson.  He looked away in shame, and the rest of the trip to the Cortex was made in silence. 

If Dr. Wells was surprised by how easy it was for Caitlin to wrangle Barry onto a gurney, he didn’t show it.  Barry refused to look at him throughout the examination, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling to keep himself from accidentally making eye contact.  God, this was awkward.  He knew he needed to apologize for yelling at Dr. Wells, but other than feeling sure that he’d had some valid points, he couldn’t remember much about the argument at all.  He didn’t even know what he needed to apologize _for,_ other than yelling at his mentor in the middle of his own facility and storming out before Dr. Wells could retaliate. 

Caitlin seemed to sense that Barry was ill-at-ease.  Her hands, always clinical and precise, were gentler than usual, and she didn’t ask Barry to remove his shirt so that she could look at the cold burns on his chest, which Barry was grateful for.  She stuck to the places on his arms and hands, working quickly and efficiently as she took measurements.  “Well, the good news is that your wounds are healing,” she said after several minutes’ investigation.  “The bad news is that they’re definitely healing slower than they should be.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Barry said, biting his lip.  “Is it Bivolo affecting me?  Or is it something else?” 

Dr. Wells’ wheelchair whirred as he approached Barry’s bedside.  “You have thermal burns on your arms and hands,” he hummed.  “If I had to hazard a guess, I would surmise that Detective Snart intervened in your altercation with the Arrow.” 

“He was there, yeah,” Barry said, bristling internally at the mention of Len but trying to suppress his reaction.  “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Detective Snart’s powers, Barry.  He generates cold from his bare hands – and cold is the antithesis of speed.  Metabolic reactions, nerve impulses, all of these factors are inhibited by cold.” 

“So you’re saying that getting hit with a big blast of Detective Snart’s ice is making me heal more slowly?” Barry said, surprised and a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of that possibility himself.  Getting shot by Len had hurt in more ways than one, but he hadn’t realized that being turned into a human popsicle was actually making him slower. 

“It seems like the most probable explanation, given that the effects of Bivolo’s whammy should be thoroughly expunged from your system.  Cisco and Caitlin were very thorough,” Dr. Wells said, sending a fond smile in their direction. 

Barry smiled at the praise to his friends, then abruptly yawned.  The adrenaline rush that had seen him through the van ride had more or less run its course, and in its absence he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. 

Dr. Wells, seeming to sense his exhaustion, immediately returned his attention to Barry.  “It’s late.  Get some rest, Barry.” 

Barry nodded, not inclined to argue, except – “I am sorry,” he said quietly.  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

For a few heartbeats, Dr. Wells’ eyes bored into his own.  Then he nodded in response.  “It’s in the past, Barry.  Let’s just forget that it ever happened.” 

Caitlin insisted on taking Barry back to her apartment, even over his protests that he didn’t have a right to infringe on her hospitality when he’d been a dick to her earlier that day.  “If you want to stay with someone else tomorrow night, fine,” she finally said.  “But it’s late, and you’ve had a very long day.  You need to rest.” 

She wouldn’t even let Barry run back to the apartment under his own power, bundling him into her tiny powder-blue Fiat before he could attempt to make a break for it.  Barry couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or not – he really didn’t need to be on his feet, but running would keep his thoughts from overwhelming him. 

In the silence of the car ride, he couldn’t help but let the wheels in his brain start turning.  The crisis was over, he’d apologized to everyone except Oliver – which could wait until morning since his friend was almost certainly still dealing with his injuries – he’d taken care of everything he could, except –

And he was back to Len.  Barry sighed inwardly, resigned to letting his anxious thoughts run away from him for a little while. 

After the fiasco of his anger-induced rampage, it had been impossible for Barry not to at least think about Oliver’s warning to stay away from Len.  The root of the problem, he’d decided, was that he was selfish – he _liked_ Len, and didn’t want to give him up.  With a strength of conviction that had caught Barry by surprise, he’d decided that Len was a valuable ally and friend, and that discarding him out of fear of their growing closeness would be a huge mistake. 

But the almost-flirtatious game of cat and mouse that had developed between him and Len when Barry was in costume was another matter entirely – and the fact that Len had been willing to let the Flash off the hook so easily after he’d beaten the shit out of _two people_ only cemented the matter in Barry’s mind.  He wouldn’t cut Len from his life entirely, but the dual nature of their friendship had escalated more than Barry had ever intended, and it was beginning to make him feel guiltier than he could ignore.  He would have to choose whether to keep Len in his life as Barry or as the Flash – and at the end of the day, there had been no contest.  Teaming up with Len in costume was fun, and Barry wanted it, but the Flash’s friendship with Len wasn’t real.  It was built on secrets and lies, and sooner or later the whole thing would unravel at Barry’s feet unless he got out while he still could. 

Even though he knew he was doing the right thing, actually making the decision had felt like a knife to the gut – and between Len, Oliver, and Bivolo, Barry was feeling more off-center than he had since before the lightning strike.  “Caitlin,” he said slowly, his mouth dry, “I need to go back to work.  And before you shoot me down, I just really need something to do – something that isn’t at STAR Labs,” he said, swallowing.  “I wouldn’t have gone off so badly at everyone, especially Dr. Wells, if I hadn’t been there so much.”

Caitlin gave him a look that was devoid of the censure Barry had been expecting – he could only read sympathy in her eyes.  “Medically, I’m inclined to suggest that you give it a couple of days.  But after that you should be clear to go back,” she said, re-focusing her attention on the road as they turned into her apartment parking lot and came to a stop in her usual parking space.  “Is this just because of Bivolo?” 

“Sort of.  It’s about some other things too,” said Barry, looking down at the seat for a second before climbing out of the car.  He knew he was being deliberately cagey, but he really wasn’t up for explaining the situation with Len to someone else.  “I’m just – trying not to think about it.” 

Caitlin paused in the process of unlatching the apartment door to shoot Barry a look.  “Barry, I’m not a psychologist, but I do know that avoiding thinking about the things that hurt you won’t make them go away.”  She hung her coat on the rack by the door and moved to the sofa, still watching him expectantly.  “It’ll just take you longer for you to process your feelings.”

Barry moved to join her, not bothering to shrug off his winter clothing – he was still cold, as if Len’s ice had settled somewhere deep inside him and had yet to thaw.  “Caitlin, I feel – _violated._ Bivolo fucked with my emotions,” he said, tucking himself into the corner of the sofa.  “He made me do things I never would have done without his influence, and I can’t take any of it back.” 

Caitlin tugged the fleece throw off the back of the sofa and draped it over Barry’s shoulders – even though he was already wearing a winter coat, he couldn’t help but find the gesture touching.  “I know, Barry, and I know it’s hard.  Dealing with anger, grief, hurt – it’s one of the hardest parts of living, but it’s so important.  I know it’s the pot calling the kettle black,” she said with a tiny, self-deprecating twitch of her lips, “but you can’t run from your feelings.  Some things, you have to stand and face.” 

Barry’s stomach clenched, and he looked up from his intense scrutiny of the carpet, forcing himself to meet her eyes.  “Caitlin, I am so sorry for what I said about Ronnie.” 

She shook her head.  “Barry, it’s okay.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” Barry quickly replied.  Caitlin’s eyebrows rose slightly, and Barry sighed – he hadn’t meant to come off that sharp.  “I know I couldn’t control myself, but that doesn’t matter to me.  Martin and Clarissa, they taught me that when your actions hurt people, you apologize and you take responsibility, whether you meant to hurt them or not,” he explained, fumbling to convey something that he’d internalized through years of dealing with his own paranoia and angry outbursts.  “I wasn’t in control of my actions when I hurt your feelings, but that doesn’t mean that what I said didn’t hurt you.  You’re allowed to be pissed at me.” 

Caitlin nodded, the surprised expression on her face gradually shifting into something more pensive.  “Thank you, Barry.  I mean that.  But I’m trying to tell you that I’m _not_ angry,” she said with a tiny, sad smile.  “You were right that I don’t let myself grieve for Ronnie.  Because part of grieving… is moving on.”  She looked up at the ceiling.  “I’ve been filling my life with things that didn’t remind me of him so that I didn’t grieve, because in order to stop grieving – I would have had to eventually let him go.” 

With a flash of insight, Barry thought he finally understood why Caitlin hadn’t pushed him to find alternate housing.  The quiet, the solitude – it would have let her feel truly alone.  She’d said as much, but there was a difference between him knowing someone’s motive, cerebrally, and understanding it in his gut.  “Caitlin, letting him go doesn’t mean you didn’t love him – that you _don’t_ love him.” 

Caitlin shook her head, the furrow between her eyebrows becoming more pinched.  “There’s parts of STAR Labs that I don’t go to.  I haven’t set foot in the particle accelerator since Ronnie died inside it.  It’s been nearly a year, and I haven’t eaten at our favorite restaurant,” she said, giving a tiny sniff – Barry realized with a pang that she was actually _crying_.  “I still change the radio station when the Red Hot Chili Peppers come on.  I even put away all the photos of him in the apartment.” 

Barry had wondered about that – Ronnie and Caitlin hadn’t lived here together for long, but he’d never seen any visible signs of their dual life together around the apartment.  Subconsciously, the lack of photos had struck him as odd.  His parents’ house had been covered in photos, mostly of him and Iris but also of him with one or both of his parents.  The Steins hadn’t been as aggressive about documenting Barry’s life milestones, but there had still been pictures – him and Clarissa at the zoo, Martin helping Barry with his project for the science fair, and other snapshots of their life together.  Caitlin didn’t have any photos in her apartment at all, but he’d chalked it up to a lack of personalization, or a desire to keep her space free of clutter.  He hadn’t considered that she might have deliberately put them away. 

He decided, impulsively, to take a chance.  “Can… can I see them?” 

Caitlin took a tiny, sharp breath, but she nodded.  “Cisco made me a collage of pictures from our engagement party,” she said, rising from the sofa and dashing a hand across her eyes.  “After the accident… I put it in my closet.  I think it’s time to unpack it,” she said, giving Barry a small smile.  “To remember the good memories along with the bad.” 

She disappeared into the bedroom, and Barry heard the sound of thumping and rustling as she extracted the collage from where it had been stashed.  Barry took advantage of her absence to shrug out of his winter coat and hang it on the coatrack before wrapping back up in his blanket cocoon – the apartment was warm, after all, and he felt weird talking about dead fiancés while bundled up in outerwear.  Before he got distracted by more serious conversation, he also pulled out his phone and fired off a couple of quick texts to Len – just the bare-bones details, that he was coming back to work in a couple of days and that it had been cleared with his doctor, because he knew Len would get on his case about it if he didn’t have medical clearance.  He put his phone away, allowing a fond smile to cross his face at the thought of Len berating him for ignoring his doctor’s orders.  It would be nice to hang out with him in the office again.  Their extrajudicial nighttime wanderings had been fun, but he’d never been able to talk to Len about his life, or ask the detective anything about himself.  Bonding opportunities like that were probably what he’d missed most. 

Caitlin returned carrying a giant picture frame, and Barry couldn’t help but laugh – he should have known that Cisco would have gone all-out with his photo collage project.  He wondered where in the apartment it had been hanging before Caitlin took it down. 

She propped the frame against the nearby armchair before sitting back down on the sofa to look at it.  “Ronnie told Cisco that he was going to propose before it actually happened, so Cisco decided that we had to celebrate our engagement in style.  He didn’t even question whether I would say yes,” Caitlin said, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Is that the Cortex?” Barry said, grinning at the middle picture.  The familiar desks and computers were barely visible beneath a layer of crepe paper and confetti.  “Cisco really went all-out.” 

“He doesn’t do things by half measures,” Caitlin said with an answering grin before peering at the picture more closely.  “Huh – I’d forgotten how many of our coworkers were there.  That’s Henry Hewitt,” she said, gesturing to one of the photos in the top corner.  Barry looked and saw a stranger deep in conversation with Dr. Wells, who, he realized with a jolt, was standing in these pictures.  Of course – Dr. Wells hadn’t been in a wheelchair then.  “Hewitt was a physicist and bio-engineer.  Prickly but good at his job,” she explained.  “He left before the particle accelerator was finished.  I think he works at Mercury Labs now.” 

“Who’s that behind him?” Barry said, motioning toward a figure in the rearground of the photo.  He was leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, expression reserved but with a glimmer of brightness in his eyes.  “Is that Ronnie?” 

Caitlin’s eyebrows rose.  “That’s Hartley Rathaway,” she said.  “He was fired not long after this picture was taken.  He actually looks happy in this photograph,” she said, smiling faintly. 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Barry said.  “He doesn’t look like a _total_ asshole.”

“He was always cruelest to Cisco,” Caitlin explained, her expression growing distant at some memory.  “He and Dr. Wells have always had a… _rapport,_ and I think Hartley was jealous.  He seemed to resent anyone else who had Dr. Wells’ ear.” 

 _Huh._ Well, Barry could hardly fault him for it – Dr. Wells _was_ as brusque and contemptuous as his biography suggested, but there was still something about him that made you want to keep his attention, once you had it.  “Which one of them is Ronnie?” he said, steering the conversation back onto its original topic. 

“That’s us,” Caitlin said, gesturing to one of the photos near the center.  Barry looked, and the first thing he noticed was Caitlin’s smile – wide and bright, a more open expression than Barry had ever seen on her face in person.  He felt a pang of regret that she’d lost something so precious to her before turning his attention to the man next to her, also laughing and wearing a ridiculous pink-and-gold party hat that made Barry smile. 

Then the bottom dropped out of his stomach – because _he recognized that face._ “Holy shit.  Caitlin, I know him.” 

Caitlin nodded thoughtfully.  “You might have seen him in pictures at STAR Labs before.  There’s still a few hanging up here and there.” 

“No, Caitlin – I’ve _met him._ Ronnie Raymond is Firestorm.” 

“Barry, that’s impossible,” Caitlin said, turning to him with wide eyes.  “Ronnie was _in_ the particle accelerator when it exploded.  He was – vaporized,” she said, her lips thinning into a flat line. 

Barry hated that he was causing her additional pain, but he had to explain.  He zoomed into the kitchen, digging through the tiny drawer underneath the cookbooks until he found what he was looking for – a piece of paper and a pencil.  “When I was in high school, I took a bunch of drawing classes,” he explained as he returned to the living room.  “It gave me something to do with my hands.  When I worked in Starling City, sometimes I’d take descriptions from eyewitnesses, do the sketch artist thing.”  His hand flew over the page, chiseling in the face of the man from under the bridge – the strong jaw, the long, untidy hair, the wild eyes.  “Look at this,” he said, pushing the finished picture toward her.  “Look at him and tell me that he doesn’t look _exactly_ like Ronnie Raymond.” 

Caitlin’s eyebrows rose into her hairline, and she touched Barry’s sketch with shaking fingers.  “Ronnie used to wear his hair long,” she said, her voice faint.  “I’ve seen awful pictures in his college yearbook.  It – I have no idea how, but it looks just like him.  How is this possible?” 

“I don’t know,” Barry said, putting a hand on Caitlin’s arm.  “But we are _going_ to find out what’s going on.  I wanted to find Firestorm already, because he might know something about Martin – but now we have to find him.  We’ll find out what’s going on, and bring him home.” 

* * *

“I really think you’ll like this place,” Barry said as he led Oliver, Felicity, and Diggle into Daily Bread.  “A couple of my friends from work brought me here once, and their sandwiches are to die for.  I can actually get enough to eat here,” he said with a grin. 

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Diggle commented, looking up at the menu on the board with newfound respect. 

The Arrow and his team were scheduled to fly out of Starling City later that day, but Barry had insisted on taking them out for lunch.  He hadn’t seen Diggle yet, after all, and he could barely remember talking to Felicity.  Plus he still needed to talk to Oliver, even though he’d repeatedly waved off all of Barry’s attempts at an apology. 

Still, the bickering over who would pay for lunch on the way to the sandwich shop had been just like old times.  “I’m a billionaire,” Oliver had protested when Barry had demanded to pay for everyone’s food.  “You’re sleeping on a friend’s couch.” 

“Low blow there, Oliver,” Barry had said with a snort.  “I kicked your ass yesterday _and_ forced you to work with a meta-cop to rescue me.  The least you can let me do is buy you lunch.” 

“Fine,” Oliver had sighed, seeming to realize that Barry wasn’t going to budge.  “We’ll split it.  You cover Diggle, I’ll cover Felicity.” 

“Sure thing, Ollie,” Barry had snickered.  It was just too fun teasing Oliver about his obvious crush on Felicity.  And honestly – Barry could acknowledge that he found both of them attractive, but it wasn’t like he was jealous.  There was no denying that they’d make a killer couple, once Oliver managed to work through some of his issues. 

Speaking of teasing – “Felicity,” Barry said while they waited in line at the counter.  “What belt is Oliver on in aikido?” 

Oliver shot Barry a _look,_ but Felicity was already grinning.  “He’s still on yellow,” she said.  “The instructor won’t advance him to orange because he has trouble with the philosophical aspects of the discipline.”

Oliver’s face soured until he looked like a wet cat, and Barry couldn’t help it – he burst out laughing.  He should have known better than to expect Oliver to instantly master a martial art that had its primary focus in nonviolence and redirection, but it was still funny. 

“Barry, is that you?” said a familiar voice from the seating area.  Barry turned and his eyebrows rose when he saw who was sitting there – it was Iris, along with Len, Lisa, and Eddie. 

“Hey, guys!” he said, abandoning the lunch counter and approaching his friends, unable to suppress his grin.  “I didn’t know you were going to be here today.” 

“It’s a small world,” Lisa said, her lips curving up in a smile.  “And who are your friends?” she said, looking past Barry to the group of people still waiting in line. 

“They’re from when I lived in Starling,” Barry explained, backing toward the line – he still had to order, after all, and Diggle couldn’t place his order until Barry returned to pay for his lunch.  “I’ll introduce you!”

“You’d better!” Lisa called.  “And you should all join us!  We haven’t seen you in weeks!” 

“Your friends seem nice,” Felicity said as Barry returned to the line.  “Will it be weird for you if we eat with them?” 

“It’ll be a little weird,” Barry admitted – Felicity preferred honesty, and mixing friend groups was always a bit stressful.  “But we should still do it.  Do you think Len will recognize you, though?” he said, abruptly remembering that Felicity had been present during his rampage against Len and Oliver the night before. 

Felicity shook her head.  “He shouldn’t.  It was dark and I was far away, plus he was distracted by dealing with you.  Not _distracted_ distracted,” she elaborated, going red.  “He just had his hands full.  Oh god, that was worse.”  She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Barry chuckled.  “You’ll like Len,” he told her, hoping fervently that he was right.  He wanted all his friends to get along, but he was a bit nervous about introducing Len to them.  “He makes puns like he breathes, so he’ll probably think your Freudian slips are hilarious.” 

They ordered their food and paid, then moved to take a seat at the giant table that Lisa and Iris had constructed for their use, cobbled together from a number of smaller tables.  Barry sat in the middle of the group, next to Len, while the rest of the Arrow team took seats at the end of the table.  “It’s nice to meet some more of Barry’s friends,” Lisa said, standing and reaching across the table to shake Felicity’s hand.  “I’m Lisa, and this is my brother Lenny.” 

They went around the table and introduced themselves, until only Oliver was left.  Barry’s lips twitched when he saw Iris eyeing Oliver with barely-suppressed interest.  “Hi everyone,” Oliver said, seeming to sense the writing on the wall.  “I’m Oliver.  Oliver Queen.” 

The reaction from the people at the table was almost instantaneous.  Eddie’s jaw dropped comically, and Len sat up slightly straighter in his chair.  Lisa turned to Barry with a grin that bordered on predatory.  “Barry, you didn’t tell me that you knew Oliver Queen.” 

“Everybody says that,” Barry protested.

“A pleasure,” Len said, ignoring the consternation at the table and holding out a hand for Oliver to shake.  For a second, Barry nearly had a heart attack – holy shit, he’d been worried about Len recognizing _Felicity_ when it was really the Arrow he should have been trying to keep Len from meeting – but Oliver’s playboy persona and casual slouch seemed to be working as well as ever.  He wasn’t even doing that dumb alpha male posturing thing that always got him into trouble back in Starling City.  Len didn’t seem to recognize him as the Arrow, but it didn’t stop him from scrutinizing Oliver closely.  “How do you and Barry know each other?”   

“We met while Barry worked for the SCPD,” Oliver explained, taking Len’s offered hand with one of his patented harmless smiles.  “He’s a good CSI.  Central City is lucky to have him in their department.” 

“That we are,” Len said, releasing Oliver’s hand and giving Barry a tiny, fond smile.  Relieved that he and Oliver hadn’t attempted to murder each other and happy to be on the receiving end of that smile again, Barry leaned into Len’s shoulder in a gesture of wordless thanks. 

He didn’t realize what he’d done until the low buzz of conversation around the table faltered slightly.  Barry blinked, then realized that Felicity and Iris were both staring at him in open astonishment.  Blushing furiously, Barry moved away from Len, hoping nobody else at the table had noticed his uncharacteristic lapse.  Thankfully, the arrival of the food provided a welcome distraction – everyone else was too busy sampling their sandwiches to notice that anything weird had happened in Barry’s general vicinity. 

He fixed his gaze on the tabletop, waiting for his blush to subside.  Why had he done that?  Iris’ shocked expression had said it all – Barry was a tactile person by nature, but there were very few people that he actually touched.  It definitely said something about him that he so rarely sought out that kind of connection, even though it was one he subconsciously craved, but he rarely found himself in the company of people who felt safe enough to touch.  It meant physical reassurance to Barry, but it also meant conveying that he _needed_ comfort and reassurance in the first place – something that was usually hard for Barry to admit.  And the list of people who were privy to that kind of trust was a short one.  Iris was allowed to touch him, of course – she was family.  Martin and Clarissa too, and his dad if they were ever on the same side of the glass.  Cisco and Caitlin were pretty much there, and so was Dr. Wells, even if Barry did find his mentor more confusing and hard to read than the other people on his shortlist. 

But he’d just leaned over and bumped his shoulder against Len’s like it was nothing.  Even Oliver, who Barry found attractive and interesting, wasn’t included in the same category as Len. 

And it was that tiny subconscious comparison between Oliver and Len, as if they were part of a small and exclusive category that excluded everyone else in Barry’s life, that finally made his train of thought come to a screeching halt. 

_Shit._

Barry took a bite of his sandwich and chewed mechanically, trying to get his thoughts into some kind of working order, which was difficult because the chorus of Kenny Loggins’ “Danger Zone” was playing on loop in his brain and he was having to force himself not to giggle and choke on his food at the absurdity of this whole situation. 

He swallowed the bite he was eating and took a deep breath.  He had to look at this carefully. 

Did he have a crush on Len?  His first impulse was to say no, but when he examined it more closely, Barry found that he actually wasn’t sure.  All of the _symptoms_ of a crush were there, at the very least.  The unusual level of enjoyment he got from their texting exchanges, the fact that he cared so much about Len’s opinion of him, the personal investment he had in making sure that Len got along with his friends from Starling City – all of them hinted at something more than friendship.  Whatever his feelings toward the older man were, Barry realized with dawning alarm, they didn’t have the same light, bubbly quality that signified a crush.  There was more going on than a passing interest, or even a simple infatuation. 

But was what Barry felt for Len simply the infectiousness and energizing positivity of a new and close friendship, or was it more than that?  They had emotional intimacy covered, at least – Barry had already told Len about his dark and tragic past, and Len had reciprocated, not to mention that Barry trusted him.  But Barry could feel that way about a friend, too.  He shifted his focus to that shoulder nudge, forcing himself to analyze his previously-unnoticed desire for contact, for physical intimacy. 

He could be physically intimate with friends too, of course.  He cuddled, high-fived, leaned on people – none of that necessarily differentiated romantic and platonic affection, at least for him.  So was Barry interested in physical intimacy with Len, or was he interested in _physical intimacy?_ He didn’t have any real scenarios to base his conjecture on, but kissing was one thing that Barry definitely didn’t do with his friends, so it would be useful for the purposes of hypothesizing.  Sure, he had already acknowledged that Len was good-looking – but would he enjoy that kind of contact with him?  Would he kiss him? 

For a second, Barry allowed himself to imagine kissing Len – the ghosting touch of his fingertips over the side of his face, the kiss itself, chaste but deep, promising _more –_ then he shivered and felt his face flush bright red.  _Shit._ He picked up his drink, hiding behind it to take a _very_ long sip of his water until he felt his sudden and unexpected blush beginning to subside. 

Okay, so that answered _that_ question.  He was definitely attracted to Len.    

And it wasn’t just a passing fancy, either.  It had been building for _weeks._

He was fucked. 

Barry glanced to the side and saw that Len was ignoring the conversation around them, watching him with a questioning expression on his face. 

He gave Len what he hoped was a reassuring smile, then busied himself with the task of trying to eat a sandwich and maintain a calm façade while he silently lost his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE CAT IS OUT OF THE BAG, FOLKS :D I hope you enjoyed Barry being a hot mess, because it was fun as hell to write. ;)
> 
> The waxing poetic about Star Trek can absolutely be attributed to my current unholy love of Star Trek TOS??? My beta and I are working on planning a possible joint venture in the Star Trek fandom, so I had to finally check something off my sci-fi bucket list and start digging into TOS. You know, for research. And I love it so much??? It's the perfect blend of sci-fi, camp, and ADORABLE characters who I love to bits. *wraps up in a blanket* I just love Star Trek so much okay I'm having so many feelings...
> 
> Also, if you don't know the song "Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins, it's one of those songs from the 1980s that's been in so many movies and commercials that I feel like everyone's heard it at some point. I can't listen to it without laughing. The mental image of Barry sitting in a diner with a glazed expression, having a breakdown over his crush epiphany while "Danger Zone" looped through his head on repeat like a demented runaway ear worm was... too good for me to resist.


	22. Research and Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s gonna be a much longer author’s note at the end of the chapter, but before I get on with the update, I just wanted to say: holy shit. Y’all. The feedback that I got on the last chapter absolutely blew me away. Thank you so much for all of your kind comments and screaming! Feedback really does mean the world to me, and reading your reviews helped keep me motivated when I was struggling with this update. Because this update was rough; my beta saw the first draft, she can attest. ;) But after a metric ton of revisions, this chapter is finally ready to go and I am beyond excited to share it! We’re getting into the good stuff now!

In the days that followed the Bivolo fiasco, things gradually returned to a state of normalcy – largely because Barry was determined that they would, even if his newest source of emotional turmoil seemed determined to throw a wrench into his plans

The problem, Barry had been forced to conclude, was a combination of his own indecision and his lack of viable options.  Barry may have finally realized that his crush on Len _existed,_ but he still had no idea what to do about it.  He couldn’t go back to pretending his feelings for Len were completely platonic, but as far as _acting_ on his feelings went, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to, much less where to begin. 

Besides, there were benefits to waiting.  One of the most important lessons that Barry had learned when it came to dating was that acting on attraction wasn’t always the best idea.  Leaping into things headfirst, without considering compatibility and all the other factors that went into making a relationship functional, didn’t necessarily lead to happy endings.  The tactic had caused Barry enough emotional distress in the past that he preferred to think things through before laying his cards on the table when it came to his feelings.  With Len, it was the only strategy that was safe. 

The only thing Barry knew for certain was that he didn’t want to risk jeopardizing their friendship – Len meant too much to him.  There was a reason that Barry had refused to even consider terminating their friendship when Oliver had suggested it, and it wasn’t his crush. 

If Barry bungled this – whatever _this_ was – he’d risk losing a friendship he valued just as deeply as the ones he’d formed with Cisco and Caitlin, maybe even more so. 

And this was all assuming that Len reciprocated Barry’s attraction, which was by no means guaranteed.  Barry had no idea whether or not Len was even interested in men.  He could probably do some discreet fishing to find that out – but only if he decided that he was actually interested in making a move. 

Barry sighed.  The fact that he was finding the concept of an information-gathering session on Len’s sexuality an intriguing prospect was a sign of just how far in over his head he really was. 

“Dude, are you awake in there?” Cisco said, waving a hand in front of Barry’s face.  Barry blinked and shook himself, refocusing on the scene in front of him.  “We can’t have you zoning out during Caitlin’s first viewing of _The Voyage Home._ ”

“I’m still wrapping my head around the concept that slingshotting a spaceship around a star in order to travel through time is a routine procedure used by Starfleet,” Caitlin said, frowning. 

“Okay, no.”  Cisco waved his hand at her in a shooing motion before diving into the popcorn bowl for another handful.  “You’ve gotta suspend your disbelief!  Besides, the _Enterprise_ gets up to all kinds of crazy stunts.” 

“But they aren’t _in_ the _Enterprise_ , they’re in a Klingon ship,” Caitlin pointed out. 

“It’s the crew that attracts the weirdness,” Cisco argued.  “Put the _Enterprise_ crew in a bathtub and I guarantee that some sort of weird shenanigans would ensue.” 

Barry snorted and returned his attention to the movie, but it was late – as much as he enjoyed _The Voyage Home,_ he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering.

The particle accelerator explosion and its aftermath had caused a number of changes to Barry’s life – they’d been relatively subtle at first, but lately it seemed like they’d all begin to compound, especially where his team was concerned.   Part of that was due to Bivolo’s influence.  Cisco, for one, seemed to have taken Barry’s anger-influenced insinuations that they needed to spend more time together and run with them in the best way possible.  On nights when the city didn’t need saving, STAR Labs movie night had become a fun bonding activity for them all.  It had soon become obvious to Barry why Caitlin had stayed quiet when Cisco had been grilling him about his favorite sci-fi movies – she hadn’t seen most of the films that Cisco had mentioned, and once he’d figured that out he’d quickly taken it upon himself to fill the gaps in her pop-cultural lexicon.  To his surprise, even Dr. Wells had opted to participate on some occasions.  He seemed to find sci-fi humorous in a way that didn’t entirely make sense to Barry, but he enjoyed Dr. Wells’ wry commentary on the technological nitty-gritty, and it was nice to do something a little more personal with his mentor than Flash business. 

They’d nearly made it to the end of their list, and Barry had found himself thinking of additional films so that they could continue the tradition in their downtime, which there had been plenty of.  Metahuman crime seemed to be on the decline lately, and Dr. Wells had relaxed a little bit on the constant training – Barry had been surprised, but he wasn’t about to question the reprieve.  They were getting along better, him and Dr. Wells.  He’d mostly stopped with the last name thing, and he seemed to be listening more, both things that made Barry feel more relaxed around him. 

He might actually have a few things to _thank_ Bivolo for, if he ever saw the man again, Barry concluded with a small smile.  The whole meta-induced ragefest was still a hazy and embarrassing memory, but even he had to acknowledge that it had come with some unexpectedly positive fringe benefits. 

Work at the CCPD had been good too.  In lieu of the usual metahuman craziness, Barry’s CSI efforts had been directed towards more mundane crimes, which were as prevalent as they ever around the holidays.  He threw himself into work at the CCPD, churning through cases as fast as they appeared on his desk.  He almost wished that Lisa _wasn’t_ as good at her job as she was, because a backlog of casework from his leave of absence would have offered him the perfect distraction from his newest source of emotional turmoil, but no such luck presented itself.  He’d taken to doing at least some of his work in Lisa’s basement lab, in spite of the freezing temperatures – he enjoyed the company, and it also meant that Len came by more often.  Lunch had become a bit of a thing for the three of them, with Iris and Eddie frequently joining. 

Clarissa’s yearly holiday gathering was on the horizon, and for the first time in his life Barry found that he had more than enough people to invite.  Between his friends at work and his team at STAR Labs, he had more close friends and loved ones than ever before. 

Things were good.  Barry had work, friends, and a purpose.  He was happy. 

He should have known better than to grow complacent, because naturally that was when everything went to shit. 

* * *

Len drained the last of his coffee from his travel mug, ignoring the way it scorched down his throat.  There was no way he was going into a crime scene like this one without his morning cup. 

The call had come in first thing that morning, before Len had even arrived at the station.  Detective West had gotten him on his cell phone to let him know he’d be needed, and Len had left his flat with his English muffin still in hand so that he could meet Lisa and Barry at the scene.  This case sounded like it was going to be a doozy, and they needed all hands on deck.

An employee at Mercury Labs had been making her rounds when she’d noticed that a security checkpoint near one of the facility’s research and development labs had been left unguarded.  When she’d investigated, she had found the guards from the previous night’s shift, dead on the ground, and one of the researchers shut in the vault, shaking with fright. 

The report had been scattered at best, but obviously a full forensic investigation would be necessary, which meant that Lisa and Barry would both be going.  And since it was possible that a metahuman was involved, Len would also be going. 

The three of them had never hit the field together before.  It was like a group outing, Len thought a bit morbidly as he walked through the side entrance of Mercury Labs, toward the waiting CSIs.  Maybe it would be fun. 

Barry certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.  His eyes were darting rapidly around the lab as he tried to take in everything at once, and he looked like he was trying to refrain from gaping openly as they walked through the facility.  “Like what you see?” Len said to the CSI, unable to resist the opportunity for a gentle ribbing. 

“Oh, you bet,” said Barry, glancing at him with a smirk before returning his attention to their surroundings.  “This place is like, a science nerd’s dream.  Some of the technology they’re working on here can’t be found anywhere else.” 

“That explains why you look like a kid in a candy store,” Lisa said, smiling indulgently at him.    

“It might also explain what our killer was doing here last night,” Len said, frowning as the idea struck him.  “Technology like this might well be considered worth killing for.” 

That sobered up their little gathering.  Lisa frowned, but Barry looked contemplative.  “The call didn’t mention any thefts, but that doesn’t mean that nothing was stolen.  Researchers tend to be very – _protective_ of their projects, especially if it’s something new,” he said, stopping to look Len and Lisa in the eye.  “They might not have wanted to report the theft, especially if it was of a prototype.” 

Len nodded.  Hopefully any researchers they questioned would divulge that kind of information on their own, but there was always the possibility that they’d keep that knowledge to themselves. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

When they moved into the prototype hangar, all three of them fell silent at the grisly scene that met their eyes.  Both security guards were lying prone on the floor, their limbs spread-eagled as if they’d been thrown and then had crumpled where they’d landed.  The air was filled with the coppery tang of dried blood; Len’s eyes were drawn to the spatter patterns across the floor and walls, which reminded Len more of a car accident than a murder.  They weren’t the first investigators on the scene, either.  Detectives West and Thawne were already there, talking to a shaken-looking man in a lab coat who Len suspected was their eyewitness. 

Barry took a deep breath beside him before lurching into motion, pausing only to set his bag on the floor before he approached the corpses, followed closely by Lisa.  “This is weird,” he said, and Len could hear the frown in his voice.  “Look at the trajectory of the remains, and the blood spatter patterns.  The scattering indicates high velocity, but it doesn’t look like any kind of gunshot wound I’ve ever seen.” 

Lisa nodded her agreement, and Len allowed himself a brief moment to be impressed by the level of detail the CSIs were able to read from the scene.  Reading detailed information at a glance was a skill that Len prided himself on, but he didn’t have the same knowledge base as Barry and Lisa.  He’d known to extrapolate a high-speed collision, but he wouldn’t have been able to rule out a gunshot wound so quickly.  “The nine-one-one call didn’t make any mention of a gun,” he said, recalling the dispatch report he’d received.  “It’s the type of thing that tends to be included in a call.” 

Barry and Lisa both gave him a wry look at the black humor before returning their attention to the blood spatters.  “If I had to guess, I’d say this looked like a cast-off pattern… but a weapon would have had to hit really hard to leave a spatter trail that long,” Barry said, kneeling on the ground next to one of the victims.  “And this cut doesn’t look clean enough to have been made with a knife.” 

“There’s no curvature either,” Lisa replied, bending to examine the spatter more closely.  “Centripetal force would explain the length of the spatter, but if the weapon had been swung in an arc following the stroke, the spatter trail would be curved.  But this is a straight line.” 

The sound of footsteps alerted Len to Detective West’s approach.  “Can we get that in English?” the detective said. 

Lisa and Barry both looked up at him.  “The blood spatter patterns and the trajectory of the remains suggest that the fatal wounds on both security guards were the result of a high-speed collision,” Lisa said. 

“And we’re talking _very_ high speed,” Barry added, frowning.  “To cause this type of damage to a human in this space?  Whatever hit them would have had to have been moving as fast as a bullet, at least.” 

West frowned.  “Ballistics reports came back negative.  No sign of a gun.  I’m no coroner, but to me it looked like their throats had been sliced with something.” 

Len grimaced, but was spared the necessity of replying when Detective Thawne approached their little gathering.  “Get this,” he said, his expression grim.  “Witness said all he saw was a blur.  A man with glowing eyes, wearing a yellow suit.” 

A shiver rattled down Len’s spine, and he felt ice-cold for reasons that had nothing to do with his powers.  He glanced at Detective West and saw that the other man looked as shaken as Len felt.  Clearly, West already knew the story of what had happened the night Barry’s mother had been murdered.  Hell, he’d been one of the arresting officers on the case – he’d probably taken Barry’s _testimony_. 

He glanced briefly at Lisa, only to see that she looked lost.  It made sense, in hindsight; she was probably the only one who hadn’t heard Barry’s story.  Len wasn’t going to share it without Barry’s permission, but if the CSI didn’t object, he’d fill her in after they left the crime scene. 

Speaking of which…  Len slowly turned to look at Barry, who hadn’t made a sound since Thawne’s announcement.  His stomach sank at what he saw.  Barry’s face looked ashen, and he was staring off into space with unfocused eyes.  “Barr,” Len said quietly, deliberately using Iris’ nickname for him. 

Barry jerked, then rose to his feet.  He looked at Len for a second before turning away, wringing his hands together.   “I - I’m going to talk to the eyewitness.  Maybe he saw something that can help me determine why the man in yellow came here.  Just – hang on a second.” 

He started walking away, his steps quick and choppy, and Len followed without thinking.   “Barry, this isn’t just your case,” he said to the CSI. 

“I know, Len!” Barry snapped.  Len stopped and waited for Barry to gather himself; the waver in his voice told Len that the CSI was barely holding it together.  Barry sent Len a faintly apologetic look before continuing.  “I know,” he sighed, more quietly.  “It’s just – this case?  It’s _personal._ It’s the most personal thing there is.  I can’t be taken off this one – can you promise me that you won’t?  You’ve gotta let me do it.” 

“I won’t take you off the case,” Len said, understanding dawning on him.  He hadn’t even considered removing the CSI from the investigation, but he wasn’t surprised that Barry had remembered the Woodward incident.  “And I also made a promise to you that if I saw an opportunity to help you prove your father’s innocence, I would take it,” Len said gently.  “You don’t have to do this alone.” 

Barry twisted his hands together.  “That’s just it – I had no idea that this was what we were going to be _doing._ When I said you could help me with my mom’s case, I meant investigating files, chasing down new leads from that night!  I didn’t actually think he’d _come back,_ ” he said before taking a deep, shuddering breath.  “Fuck.  Len, he’s back.  Why is he back?” 

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, and Len immediately regretted trying to force the issue.  He should have waited until they were back at the precinct, when Barry didn’t have to worry about holding it together so that he could keep doing his job.  “I’m sorry for pushing,” he said, feeling relieved when Barry nodded in response.  “I don’t know why he’s back, but maybe we can find out.  You were right about needing to talk to the eyewitness.” 

 “Thanks,” said Barry after a minute’s pause.  “I’m just – really freaked out about this one.  But I’m not going to fall apart, I swear.” 

“I know you won’t,” Len said, wishing that he had something more comforting to offer.  Barry shouldn’t _have_ to be strong with his mother’s killer back in town, but he and Barry both knew that his performance on this case had to be good, or Captain Singh would notice.  All Len could do was help shoulder the burden, when the opportunity presented itself.  “But I want to help you solve this,” he said, looking Barry in the eye so that the CSI would know he was serious.  “Can I?” 

“Yeah,” Barry said shakily, the fear and uncertainty in his eyes slowly fading.  Len couldn’t help feeling proud; he knew that Barry’s composed air was just a mask, but it was an effective one if you didn’t know what his tells were.  “Yeah, you can help.  But you’ve gotta be careful,” he said, looking at Len intently.  “The man in yellow has killed two people already – and I’m _not_ adding any more names I care about to his list,” he said, narrowing his eyes. 

Len wanted to chuckle at Barry’s puppy-dog glare.  He was a cop and a metahuman, but the kid was still trying to protect him.  It was cute.   He raised his hands in surrender, allowing his mouth to turn up at the corners in a smirk.  “Scout’s honor.  I won’t go looking for trouble – but only if _you_ promise not to go running off half-cocked.” 

For a second, Barry’s eyes lit up with a flicker of genuine mirth, and the warmth that Len felt curl through him in response caught him off-guard.  “You know what?  That’s fair,” the CSI said with a smile that almost looked like his normal one.  Barry squared his shoulders and nodded.  “Alright – I’m feeling better now, or at least as better as I can feel.  Let’s go talk to that witness.’  He started over toward the scientist, and Len followed.

Once they reached the nervous-looking researcher, Barry didn’t waste any time.  “My name’s Barry Allen.  I’m a CSI with the CCPD,” he said, showing the man his laminate.  “Did you say you saw a man in a yellow suit break into your facility?  Do you know what he looked like?” 

“I didn’t see his face,” the scientist said, seeming relieved that the police were taking his report seriously.  “He was wearing some sort of mask.  I couldn’t even see his eyes.  All I know was that this thing, whatever it was?  It was fast,” he said, shivering.  “One minute, the security guards were rushing me into the vault.  The next, they were both dead, and that _thing_ was looking at me through the window.” 

Barry nodded slowly.  “Has anything gone missing in the vault?  Or from anywhere else in Mercury Labs?” 

“Not as far as I know,” the scientist admitted.  “But whoever, or whatever, that thing was, it was definitely looking for something.” 

Barry glanced at Len, his expression pensive.  “So something at the lab could have been the target.  But he didn’t get what he wanted.” 

“Which means he’ll be back,” Len finished.   “Doctor, what sorts of prototypes are worked on in this lab?” 

The scientist’s eyes darted between Len and Barry.  “I’m not supposed to talk about our projects in development.” 

“Doctor,” Barry said.  “You don’t have to give us specifics.  But if this man is after something at Mercury Labs, we need to know about it for our investigation.  If we can figure out what he wants, we can stop him from killing anyone else.” 

Barry’s voice was even and soothing, as if he was trying to calm a frightened animal.  Len was impressed, especially given how on-edge the CSI had been only minutes before.  He’d always wondered if they’d broken the mold when they made his sister, but in this respect, at least, Barry was cut from the same cloth.  

The scientist let out a sigh, and gave in.  “The primary subject of this particular lab is research on tachyonic particles,” he explained.  “Anything more than that, I’m not comfortable telling you at this time.  Not unless I get it cleared with my boss.” 

“Alright, that’s fair.”  It wasn’t much to go on, but tachyonic particles at least gave them something to start with.  Len took out his wallet and handed the scientist one of his business cards.  “My number.  In case you think of anything else.” 

The scientist nodded, and with that their interview seemed to be at an end.  Len and Barry re-joined Lisa and the other detectives, who were engaged in a hushed but animated conversation about their killer. 

“I’m just saying,” Detective Thawne was arguing.  “Barry and Lisa’s descriptions of an abnormally high-velocity murder weapon without any ballistics evidence, combined with the eyewitness’ description?  It sounds like a speedster.” 

“Wait a second, hold up,” Barry said, looking incredulous.  “A speedster?  You think _the Flash_ did this?” 

“We’re not saying it was the Flash,” Detective West said.  “But the man in the yellow suit could be a speedster too.  Couldn’t he?” he said, looking at Len expectantly.

“Metahumans are products of the circumstances that create them,” Len said, thinking about his own accident in the lab the night that the particle accelerator had exploded.  “Different accidents lead to different powers.  So far, every metahuman we’ve come across has been unique.  But that doesn’t mean that the Flash is the only person who could have gained superhuman speed that night.” 

“So instead of looking for the Flash, we’re going to look for a person who had the exact same accident that gave the Flash his powers?” Thawne said, looking skeptical. 

“Lenny, I think you’re right, but there’s a problem with all this,” Lisa said.  “We don’t even know what _happened_ to the Flash that night.  Has he ever told you how he got his powers?” 

“No,” Len said with a frown.  “Origin stories are considered fairly personal information, even if they aren’t subject to legal protections.  I can ask him if I see him again, but he’d be well within his right to refuse.” 

“Even if it’s the subject of a police investigation?” Thawne said, raising his eyebrows.  “Without that information, we have nothing to go on.  We’d have no way of tracking down a second speedster without it.  The Flash might end up a person of interest in this case, whether he was involved or not.” 

“The Flash wasn’t responsible for this,” Len said firmly.  Thawne wasn’t accusing Scarlet of murder, but Len still intended to put the matter to rest.  “Even if he did have a yellow suit that he could wear instead of his red one, this doesn’t fit his MO.  The Flash steals small necessities and tends to be somewhat destructive, but he’s not a killer.  And Mercury Labs said that nothing was taken.” 

“This is all really good stuff, but there’s a massive hole in this theory,” Barry said.  “Metahumans were created by the particle accelerator explosion.  But if the man in yellow got his powers the same way the Flash did, how could he have murdered my mom fourteen years ago?”

Silence fell as everyone tried to puzzle through the conundrum that Barry had just posed.  Out of the corner of his eye, Len saw Lisa trying to get his attention, but he shook his head briefly.  He’d have to explain Barry’s statement to her later. 

“Okay, you have a point,” Thawne conceded, nodding at Barry.  “The evidence looks solid, but the dates don’t match up.  Where does that leave us?  Back at square one?”

“What if we shift our focus?” Barry said.  “Maybe the man in yellow isn’t exactly the same kind of speedster as the Flash – researching his origin story won’t help us then.  So instead of trying to find out what went into _creating_ a second speedster, what if we narrow our search based on what the man in yellow was trying to take from Mercury Labs?” he said, looking around at them expectantly.  “Do any of you know anything about tachyons?  I know some very basic stuff, but these things were considered theoretical particles until a couple of years ago.” 

Len looked at Lisa, who shook her head.  “I’m not the one with the bachelor’s degree in physics,” she said, winking at Barry.  “I’m afraid that research is going to be your job.” 

Barry nodded, seeming unsurprised that Lisa had tipped the research assignment in his direction.  “It’s not gonna be easy – labs like Mercury keep their secrets locked down tight, and a lot of the current research publications are locked behind a paywall.”  He folded his hands together, his expression determined.  “But if it’s what it’ll take to stop the man in yellow, I’ll figure something out.” 

* * *

Barry had originally intended to get right on the research project that Lisa had assigned.  Really, he had.  Especially since he wasn’t going to have to do research at all – he just had to run over to STAR Labs and grill his physicist friends for everything they knew about tachyons, and then lie to the police about where he’d gotten the information.  No big deal, especially since the alternatives were way more unpalatable, and would take way longer.  Was Barry technologically savvy enough to hack the American Journal of Physics databases in order to bypass their seventy-dollar paywall?  No he was not.  He was going to have a hard time explaining his sources to Len and Lisa, but hopefully they wouldn’t ask.  He’d get good information from STAR Labs, and it wasn’t like he was going to pay money to access the journals when he could get the intel he needed from his friends for free. 

But Barry still had to pretend that he was actually researching, and that meant disappearing from the precinct for a prolonged period of time.  Even if his people at the CCPD had known about his ability to speed-read, it would still take him time to find and access the relevant research in the first place.  This effectively meant that while Barry was maintaining cover, he had several free hours to kill, and he intended to put them to the best possible use – procrastinating. 

Barry flopped down on Caitlin’s sofa with a heavy sigh, picked up the remote, and began flipping through channels, looking for something to distract him.  For now, distraction was the name of the game, even though Barry knew that he was eventually going to have to face the cold, hard facts.  There were plenty of tantalizing prospects to choose from.  The man who’d murdered his mother was back in Central City, for starters.  He was after a mysterious tachyon prototype for god-knew-what nefarious purposes, and he’d already killed two _more_ people.  Not to mention the fact that the CCPD was looking for him now too, placing even more of his loved ones directly in a known killer’s line of fire.

Barry groaned and turned off the television.  Clearly this wasn’t working – he was still on the verge of freaking out.  He had too much restless energy bubbling to the surface, and no productive outlet to pour it into. 

Then something occurred to him.  It was nearly time for the holidays – and he had gifts that needed to be given. 

Hiding his presents in someone else’s apartment had been a _task,_ especially considering that one of these gifts belonged to the apartment’s actual owner.  Barry had ultimately settled on hiding them inside one of Caitlin’s gigantic crock pots, which had never been moved from its home under the sink in the entire time that Barry had been living here. 

He extricated the boxes from their confinement and got to work wrapping them, forcing himself not to rush the process.  The wrapping was the end goal in and of itself – it was giving Barry something to do with his hands.  He took his time with each box, making sure to fold the paper over and keep the seams even before he got to work on the ribbons and bows.  Clarissa loved wrapping presents, and she’d taught Barry some of her techniques over the years.  He could curl ribbon like nobody’s business. 

Running to STAR Labs with an armful of presents was a precarious balancing act, but Barry made it there in the end.  He’d been planning to give his friends their gifts soon anyway, and what better opportunity than when he was picking their brains for information on tachyons? 

He zipped into the Cortex and was pleased to see that Cisco, Caitlin, and Dr. Wells were already there, working on their various projects.  “Happy holidays!” he said, setting his small stack of gifts down on the desk. 

“Barry!” Caitlin said.  “You and your presents are early,” she said, smiling at him teasingly.  “Christmas isn’t for a few days.” 

“That’s actually sort of the point?” Barry said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Iris and I have a tradition where we exchange two gifts – a gag gift before the holidays roll around, and then our real gift whenever we actually see each other _on_ Christmas.  I figured I’d give you your funny presents now and do the real one later,” Barry explained, handing Cisco the package on top of his stack. 

Cisco tore through the paper and tugged open the box, wiggling out the Styrofoam wrapping inside and opening it to reveal his present.  His jaw dropped. “Dude.  Is this the _Enterprise?_ ” 

“Yep!  And it’s also a pizza cutter,” Barry said proudly.  “Form _and_ function in one convenient, nerdy package.” 

Cisco tugged the chrome-plated spaceship free of the packaging and spun the cutting disk with one finger, his expression gleeful.  “This is fantastic.  How did you even find something like this?” 

“I had a lot of free nights to spend online shopping while I was on leave from the CCPD,” Barry admitted.  “And since Caitlin is letting me stay at her place, I’ve saved up a lot of paychecks.”  He handed Caitlin her box next.  “Here’s yours – with all the absurd stuff you have to put up with from us on a daily basis, I figured you could get some use out of this,” he said with a smirk. 

Caitlin unwrapped her box, setting the bow to the side, and her lips twitched when she saw the packaging inside.  “A wineglass that looks like a prescription bottle?” 

“It’s just what the doctor ordered.  There’s like, five terrible puns on the glass alone,” Barry said, grinning unrepentantly.  “If you want a matched set, I can give you a link to the website where I found it.  And, last but not least – Dr. Wells!”  Barry hefted the last box, which was significantly larger than the others, before passing it over to his mentor. 

Dr. Wells unwrapped his box with methodical precision, and his eyebrows rose at the sight of its contents.  “A copy of the Oxford English Dictionary?” he said, looking puzzled. 

“It just _looks_ like the Oxford English Dictionary,” Barry corrected.  “Open it.” 

Dr. Wells did as Barry instructed, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a much more pleased smile when he saw the secret storage compartment hidden in the book’s pages.  “An aesthetically-pleasing way to safeguard one’s valuables, Barry,” he said with a nod.  “Thank you.” 

Barry leaned back against the center console, allowing himself to enjoy the festive mood for a few more minutes before he had to start asking questions.  It was nice, seeing everyone happy.  “Clarissa and I are going to have people over for the holidays,” he said.  “It’s mostly a Christmas celebration, but we do some Hanukkah things too – for my foster dad,” he explained, his smile slipping for a brief second at the realization that this would be his first holiday in years that he wasn’t spending with both of his foster parents.  “We’d love it if you came,” he said, forcing himself back onto the topic of the holiday party.  “It’s a few days from now, so if it’s too short a notice, that’s fine.  There’ll be latkes, though,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at Cisco.

“Dude, you had me at ‘holidays’ but you’re welcome to bribe me with food whenever you’d like,” Cisco said.  “Count me in.” 

“I should be free most evenings leading up to Christmas,” Caitlin said.  “It’ll be nice to see Clarissa again.  What about you, Dr. Wells?” she said, looking at their mentor. 

Dr. Wells shook his head.  “As much as I appreciate the invitation, Barry, I’ve found that I prefer to spend the holidays in solitude.  Please pass my apologies along to Clarissa.” 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Barry said, feeling a bit disappointed but also guiltily relieved.  He and Dr. Wells were getting along better now, but there was still some lingering tension between the two of them that hadn’t entirely dissipated.  It wasn’t like he could extend an invitation to Cisco and Caitlin without inviting his mentor too, but having Harrison Wells show up at his foster parents’ house for a holiday part would have been… awkward. 

Luckily, Dr. Wells didn’t seem like he had anything else to say about the invitation he’d declined.  “So what brings you out here, this early in the afternoon?” their mentor asked instead.  “The gift exchange was enjoyable, but it could have waited until this evening.  Shouldn’t you be at work?” 

Barry grimaced.  So much for the fun, distracting conversation he’d been allowing himself to enjoy.  “Actually, I’m sort of working right now.  There was a break-in at Mercury Labs last night, and as far as we can tell, the intruder was after some sort of tachyon prototype,” he said, focusing on the way that Cisco’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline as he listened.  “We need to figure out what exactly the prototype is and why he wanted it, before he comes back.” 

“And so you came to Mercury Labs’ former competitor to find the information you’re seeking,” Dr. Wells said, nodding slowly.  “Very astute.  Mercury Labs, as I’m sure you already know, is at the forefront of research and development.  They were STAR Labs’ biggest competition until our little – setback,” he said with a wry twist of his lips as he wheeled toward the dualscreen monitors.  “Since then, they’ve catapulted to the head of the scientific arms race, led by Dr. Tina McGee, a brilliant but egocentric physicist.”  A picture of an imposing woman with short, dark blonde hair appeared on the monitor; Barry didn’t remember having seen her face before, but he did recognize Dr. McGee’s name from some of Martin’s journals.  “According to this press briefing, Dr. McGee recently secured half a billion dollars in private funding to develop, and I quote, ‘prototypes for the technology of the future.’”  Dr. Wells looked quietly amused.  “Well, I suppose that’s one way of thinking about tachyons.” 

“What sorts of things can you do with tachyons?” Barry asked.  “We don’t even know why this guy is after them.” 

“Theoretically, there are all sorts of applications for tachyonic particles,” Dr. Wells said, rapping one finger against the arm of his wheelchair.  “Your mystery man could adapt the prototype to suit a number of purposes, given the appropriate level of technical knowledge.”  He looked at Barry over the rims of his glasses.  “I can’t help but feel like there’s something you aren’t telling us.” 

Barry sighed.  “Yeah, there’s – one thing I left out.  We think the guy who broke into Mercury Labs and killed those guards might be a speedster.  And,” he continued, wincing inwardly as he waited for the other shoe to drop, “we also think he’s the same guy who killed my mom.” 

Pandemonium engulfed the lab.  “What do you _mean_ this guy is the guy who killed your mom?” Cisco yelped.  “You _open_ with that statement.  That’s like, detail number one!”

“I know!  I’m trying not to freak out too, believe me!” Barry said. 

“We have to help you catch him,” Caitlin said.  “This could be our best chance to clear your dad’s name!” 

“Alright, everyone, let’s focus,” said Dr. Wells, holding up a hand and waiting until they were all silent before he continued.  “Barry.  Did the researcher you questioned say anything else about the nature of the tachyonic prototype?  Any details about the tachyon delivery mechanism, energy output?” 

“No,” said Barry, surprised by the rapid-fire questions.  “Why do you ask?” 

“Because tachyons are superluminal particles – they travel at speeds that exceed the speed of light,” Dr. Wells explained.  “If the man in yellow was able to steal or create a matrix stable enough to harness their power, he could boost his speed to unquantifiable levels.” 

Barry’s blood ran cold.  If the man in the yellow suit was able to become that much faster than him, there was no way he’d be able to catch up.  “We need to stop him before he gets his hands on those tachyons.” 

“I quite agree,” Dr. Wells hummed.  “Fortunately, one doesn’t have to be as fast as a speedster in order to catch one.  With the right bait, we could lure your man in yellow directly to STAR Labs.” 

“Bait?” Barry said, a shiver creeping down his spine.  “Do you mean… the tachyon prototype?” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “He _has_ already demonstrated that he’s willing to kill for it.” 

“On the one hand, yikes,” Cisco said, before pulling a Twizzler from a bag on the desk and biting into it with a contemplative look.  “But that _is_ a pretty good point.  If he knew we had the tachyon prototype instead of Mercury Labs, he’d probably show up to take it from us.” 

Barry grimaced.  “I’m not sure how we’re going to get ahold of the prototype, though,” he said, struggling to articulate why he felt uneasy about this particular idea, no matter how logical and straightforward it sounded.  “If Tina McGee is even half as protective of her tech as the researcher I met today, she’s not going to turn it over to STAR Labs or the police.  The CCPD will need miles of warrants to get within an inch of it,” he continued, warming to his topic.  “And I’m not about to go in there and steal it, either – two men died protecting this thing already.  Even if I return it after we use it, there will still be a panic.  People could lose their jobs.”

Dr. Wells frowned thoughtfully.  “I understand your objections, Barry, and it’s certainly possible for us to come up with a feasible alternative to the tachyon prototype,” he said, steepling his fingers.  Unfortunately, it may take more time than we have.  There’s no guarantee that the man in yellow will remain in Central City.”

“I know,” Barry said helplessly.  “I just – don’t want to rush this.  Whatever plan we come up with has to be rock-solid.  If we mess this up, the man in yellow could kill someone else, or we could lose him for good.  I want to catch him, but this feels… risky.” 

“So you would prefer to wait and make more extensive preparations before pursuing the man in yellow, even with the risk that we might lose him if we delay?” Dr. Wells asked. 

“Yeah,” Barry said, relieved that Dr. Wells had been able to summarize his rambling so neatly.  “That’s exactly what I was getting at.” 

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”  Dr. Wells nodded slowly.  “I must say, Barry, I’m a bit surprised by your decision,” he said, leaning back in his wheelchair while looking at Barry contemplatively.  “Knowing you, I’d have assumed that you would be willing to do whatever it took to clear your father’s name and bring your mother’s killer to justice, no matter the risk.” 

Barry blinked, feeling as though Dr. Wells had slapped him.  How could his mentor think that he wasn’t willing to do whatever it took to get justice for his family?  “I’m just saying that I don’t want to do anything until we have a plan,” he said incredulously.  “We’re gonna get this guy.  But I’m not risking anyone’s lives, or the tachyon prototype, to do it!” 

“It’s okay, Barry,” Caitlin said.  “Catching the man in yellow might take longer if we do our homework, but we can figure out something else to use as bait for the trap.  There has to be something else he wants.” 

“And while we’re figuring that out, Dr. Wells and I can get to work designing an escape-proof trap,” Cisco said, putting a hand on Barry’s shoulder.  “Maybe… something with forcefields.  Ooh, that’s a good idea,” he muttered, stuffing the rest of his Twizzler in his mouth.  “I’m gonna start making some sketches.” 

“While you guys do that, I think I’m gonna head back to the lab,” Barry said, backing towards the door.  “I promised the guys on the Metahuman Taskforce that I’d let them know what I found out about the tachyons, and I want to look over my mom’s case for a bit before I go back to Caitlin’s.” 

His stomach churned uneasily throughout his run back to the station.  He couldn’t stop thinking about all the people who might be risking their lives by hunting Barry’s childhood demon.  And as a bonus, for whatever reason, Barry just couldn’t shake what Dr. Wells had said to him.  It wasn’t the bluntness of the statement that had caught him off-guard – Dr. Wells’ autobiography had described him as blunt and contemptuous for a reason, and Barry had largely gotten used to it.  This time, it had been the _implications_ of the statement that got to him – that Barry was more worried about playing it safe than he was about catching his mother’s killer, and that his tendency toward caution had somehow disappointed his mentor personally.  He was sure Dr. Wells hadn’t _meant_ to call him a coward, but that was sure what it felt like. 

Len wasn’t at the station when Barry arrived, but for once he wasn’t disappointed to find the older man missing.  Len was uncannily good at inferring Barry’s emotional state – usually it was useful and nice, but right now Barry really didn’t want to talk about his feelings.  Instead, he made his report to Lisa, who, to his relief, didn’t ask him any difficult questions – everything was finally starting to hit home, and the more Barry thought about things, the more exhausted he felt.  The fun holiday scene at STAR Labs felt like it had happened to someone else, a long time ago. 

Barry’s shift ended at seven, but he didn’t leave the station right away.  He walked back up to his lab and stared at the giant map of Central City that was sitting by his desk, before pulling the cord and allowing the map to roll up to reveal the board it concealed. 

His mother’s case was laid out there before him – every wild theory and shitty conspiracy he’d ever tried to uncover, all leading in the same endless circles.  He’d spent his life searching for the one thing, the one clue that could unravel the whole case, and now he might have found it. 

Except this theory didn’t make any goddamn sense.  So the man who’d killed his mother was a speedster – how had he gotten his powers?  And how had he been created, if he’d had those powers fourteen years ago?  Had there been a particle accelerator explosion back then that could have created the necessary circumstances for a speedster to be born? 

Barry gritted his teeth and forced himself to set aside the problem of continuity for the time being – all he was doing was running himself in circles.  The man who’d killed his mother was _probably_ a speedster, and he was definitely out there somewhere, right now, trying to get his hands on something that would make him even faster. 

But why had the man in yellow resurfaced now?  The man in yellow had gone so deeply underground that even Barry’s lunatic searching hadn’t been able to unearth him.  He’d hidden among the general population for _fourteen years_ – as a speedster who’d been hiding his abilities for only a few months, Barry knew firsthand how great a challenge that could be. 

Now, the man in yellow was moving out in the open.  He’d been seen by multiple people, the CCPD had been alerted, and Team Flash was on the lookout as well – and he hadn’t even gotten what he wanted yet. 

Barry sat in his chair and looked up at the corkboard, biting his lip.  The man in yellow wasn’t this clumsy.  There was something else happening that he didn’t understand, and he had to figure it out before things got worse than they already were.  Dr. Wells could goad him all he wanted, but he had to be careful – it wasn’t just his dad’s freedom that was riding on this.  His friends were helping him now.  Hell, Len was investigating the case _directly,_ and Lisa was almost certainly helping him, to say nothing of Cisco and Caitlin.  It wasn’t just Barry’s game anymore.  He had too much at stake to allow himself to become overeager and clumsy. 

He wheeled his swivel chair back over to his desk and looked out over the rooftops of Central City, lost in thought about the man in yellow, the tachyon prototype, and all the new and unexpected ways that his life had suddenly gone sideways.  He’d just started to think about the fact that all of this bullshit was coinciding so perfectly with the holiday season when a flicker of motion from outside caught his attention.  He turned – and his heart stopped in his chest. 

The monster from his childhood nightmares was standing on the roof across from the precinct. 

And it was staring right at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I am so sorry about this cliffhanger but this chapter was already nearly 8k words long… I had to cut it off somewhere *hides* 
> 
> Alright, now onto the longer author’s note. It contains actual housekeeping details so if you wanna skip it, feel free. ;) The main thing to note is that we are rapidly approaching the end of part one of this fic. By Any Other Name has a three-act structure that corresponds to how I’ve always subdivided season one in my head, and the rest of the episode nine chapters are going to round out part one. Right now, I’m thinking there will be three more episode nine chapters, putting this fic at twenty-five chapters by the time they’re all written and posted. 
> 
> The unfortunate thing about this is that once I get to the end of the twenty-fifth chapter, I’m going to have to take a pause while I organize and prepare to start part two of this fic. BAON runs off a massive outline that I use to stay on track with the major plot and character threads – I deviate from the outline a lot, especially with the extra scenes that tend to sneak their way into the chapters themselves, but the main details of the story are all there. It’s been a long time since I revised that outline, and there are some details that I need to tweak and add before I can keep going with new chapters. 
> 
> I hesitate to call this a hiatus, but it’ll be a gap of probably two or three weeks while I work on the outline, revise bits and pieces of the plot, and just generally make sure that the fic stays on track. I might also dust off a few of my other projects during the break so that I stay refreshed and ready to keep writing this fic – my shorter WIPs have been languishing, and there’s one that I’m hoping to finish altogether soon. 
> 
> So long story short – there are still several more chapters to go before this break happens, and I’m going to work on the outline as much as I can while I write chapters 23 through 25 so that the actual hiatus will be as short and painless as possible. But it’s on the horizon, and I figured I’d go ahead and let people know! I’ll still be around on AO3 and Tumblr to answer comments/asks/et cetera, so if you wanna chat with me during the hiatus, I will be here. 
> 
> Also, all the presents that Barry gave to the STAR Labs crew are real! I had way too much fun procrastinating by doing Barry’s holiday shopping for him. I have the hyperlinks saved, and if I can get the HTML to work I'll link them. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter – I’ve been building to this content for over a year, so finally getting to share it with you is really exciting. :)


	23. Face The Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summer is almost over, but I am back with another chapter! This one is the longest update yet - thanks to my beta for reading it over and catching all my missing quotation marks. Also, as always, thank you to everyone who commented on the previous chapter. Your reviews were inspirational, and they definitely played a part in this chapter getting longer every time I went back and revised it. 
> 
> I'm pleased to report that I've finally given into one of my favorite trash habits - using song lyrics from my fic playlists as inspiration for my chapter titles. This one comes from the song "Ever After" by Marianas Trench, which I looped pretty consistently while writing this chapter. It's one of my favorite bits of mood music for Barry in this AU, and it fit the vibe of this chapter nicely.

For a brief, frozen second, the burning red eyes of the man in the yellow suit held Barry paralyzed like an animal trapped in the headlights of an onrushing car. 

Then Barry was running, streaking out the front door of the precinct without a thought for his planning, his secret identity, anything.  Nothing mattered but catching the ghost on the roof before he vanished again – Barry would scale every rooftop in the damn city if it meant he could end this here and now. 

Barry was bracing himself for the grueling task of running down a man as fast as himself and many years more experienced, so when the man in the yellow suit appeared in front of him at the other end of the alley, it was the last thing he was expecting.  He rocked back on his heels, sparks flying from his Converses as he skidded to a stop and stared at the figure in front of him. 

He hadn’t seen the man in yellow since he was eleven years old, but Barry found that the memories didn’t do him justice.  Childhood recollections and night terrors had failed to prepare him for how chilling it would be to see his mother’s killer in the flesh after all these years.  “It was you,” Barry said hoarsely, staring at the man he’d been chasing for more than half his life.  The man in yellow’s outline was blurry and indistinct, and the glare from his red eyes made it even more impossible for Barry to see his face, but it was the same person – Barry could feel it in his bones.  “You were the one in my house that night.” 

The figure didn’t move or speak, simply stood there, watching him.  Barry’s eyes raked him over, pushing the limits of his perception in order to see through the haze of vibrations that hid his enemy from view, and was disconcerted when he couldn’t.  An entirely new feeling of unease passed over him as he realized that the man in yellow was definitely faster than he was. 

But superior speed or not, Barry wasn’t going to stop now.  “You killed my mother,” he continued in spite of the way his instincts were screaming for him to get the _hell_ out of there.  “I want to know why!” 

Finally, the man in yellow spoke – and Barry immediately wished that he hadn’t.  “If you want to know that,” he said, his voice vibrating in a deep, terrifying distortion so like and unlike Barry’s own, “you’ll have to catch me first.” 

Then the man in yellow was off like a shot, bleeding a trail of scarlet lightning behind him.  Before he could stop to think, Barry was following him in pursuit. 

Running was like a jolt to his system, searing through the animal panic that had begun to cloud over him in the alley.  Barry took a second to enjoy the welcome clarity before he focused on the target in front of him. 

No matter how he’d gotten his powers, the man in yellow was a speedster like him – Barry was certain of that now.  The only proof he needed was the lingering charge he could sense in the air around him.  The lightning trail his enemy left behind was the wrong color, and it _felt_ wrong in a way that Barry couldn’t quantify, but it was the same energy, the same sensation. 

Barry’s blood was up, singing with rage in his ears.  He wanted to run this man down like quarry and _drag_ the answers he wanted out of him, then throw him in some dark, enclosed space and lock away the key.  He wanted to make the man in yellow answer – for killing innocents, for ripping Barry’s life apart, for showing up now just when Barry was starting to finally gain some sort of peace – and in his determination to do just that, he ripped through all of his self-imposed limits like they were made of tissue paper.  He broke the sound barrier and kept going, running at a speed that would have terrified him if he’d been thinking clearly. 

But a part of Barry was still terrified nonetheless – because the man in yellow was _matching him_.  Every time Barry began to close the gap, the figure he was pursuing would widen it again, until Barry’s lungs were burning with the effort of the chase.

In minutes, they’d reached the outskirts of Central City.  The man in yellow swerved into a deserted football stadium and Barry followed just behind him, skidding to a stop when his enemy did the same. 

The man in yellow shook his head.  “Not fast enough, Flash,” he said, his echoing voice layered with casual menace.   

Barry bared his teeth.  “Who are you?” 

Mocking red eyes bored into his own.  “You know who I am, Barry.”    

The sound of his real name was like a shock of ice water to Barry’s system, and for a moment his emotions threatened to overwhelm him as he took in the futility of his directionless pursuit.  There was nothing he could do to this man on his own – it had been fourteen long years, and the man in yellow was still bigger than him, still faster, still knew things Barry didn’t.  He had no hope of stopping him, not like this. 

Barry bit his lip – he’d been stupid and reckless, and now he was in over his head.  If the man in yellow killed him here and now, nobody would know where he was.  Barry imagined Len and Lisa investigating his death, studying how the blood spatter patterns had soaked into the Astroturf, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. 

Grimly, he fought the panic down.  He wasn’t going to die here – he was going to make it home, and then he was going to get some fucking answers.  “I know you’re the man who killed my mother,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “and the man who broke into Mercury Labs yesterday.  What are you going to do with the tachyon prototype?” 

When the man in yellow charged him, Barry didn’t have time to think – he threw himself to the side, false bravado giving way to an instinctive need to preserve his own life. 

Before he could regain his footing, the man in yellow was on him again, scooping him up and slamming him into the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him.  He wheezed and tried to scramble upright, and was rewarded for his efforts with a kick in the ribs before the man in yellow bundled him up and rolled him over again. 

Barry spat out a mouthful of tiny black Astroturf pebbles, but he didn’t try to rise this time.  He’d been in enough schoolyard fights to recognize this encounter for what it was.  The man in yellow could have shattered his ribs with that kick, but he hadn’t.  This wasn’t a fight – this was an intimidation attempt and a display of strength.  The man in yellow was _playing_ with him.  He was faster than Barry, and he was proving that he could kill Barry if he wanted to – and as much as Barry wanted to grind his teeth in rage at his own impotence and fight back, he had a responsibility to the people he loved, and that was to make it home. 

So he didn’t move, even when the man in yellow loomed over him and stared down at him with glowing red eyes.  “We’ve been at this a long time, you and I, but I am always one step ahead,” he said, the distorted double-echo of his voice causing the hairs to rise on the back of Barry’s neck.  “It is your destiny to lose to me, Flash.  You cannot stop me.  Do not try.” 

And then he was gone, the stench of scorched ozone in the air the only sign that he’d been there at all. 

* * *

Barry hadn’t gone back to Caitlin’s apartment that night.  He’d gone back to STAR Labs and hauled a cot from one of the abandoned breakrooms up to the Cortex, and he’d stayed there, tossing and turning as he tried to come up with a plan. 

The appearance of the man in yellow on the rooftop – that had changed things.  It had been easier to think of his enemy as a hypothetical abstract that could be defeated through a careful application of planning and superpowers, until he’d come face-to-face with him and seen just how outclassed he really was.  The man in the yellow suit was the fastest man alive, and he had to be stopped. 

The sound of his phone ringing eventually woke Barry from his fitful half-sleep – Caitlin had woken up and realized that he hadn’t come back last night, and she’d called to check on him.  Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he explained the situation to her as thoroughly as he could manage.  “Are you coming to the lab soon?” he finished, anxiety and fear finally winning out over the need to appear strong.  Right now, he couldn’t be alone. 

“I need to get dressed, but I’ll be on my way as soon as I’m ready,” Caitlin promised.  “Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?” 

“I have Cisco’s energy bars here, but I could really do with some coffee,” Barry said, wrapping one arm around his knees.  “And – could you let Dr. Wells and Cisco know that I’m here?  I can tell them the story when they turn up, but I think the best thing for me would be if we all put our heads together and figured out what to do next,” he admitted. 

“I’ll let them know,” Caitlin said.  “And I’m going to give you a massive hug when I get there.  I’m glad you’re okay.” 

Barry took a deep breath.  “So am I.  I’ll see you soon.” 

He hung up the phone and began pacing the Cortex floor, too exhausted to think but too restless to get back in bed.  If only caffeine still had an effect on him, he thought grimly.  It was going to be a _very_ long day. 

A new set of drawings on the whiteboard caught Barry’s attention, and he moved to examine them.  He recognized the untidy, looping scrawl of Cisco’s handwriting, and while the equations on the board weren’t exactly his forte, Barry found that he was able to decipher most of the notes.  Apparently Cisco had been true to his word about starting on trap designs right away. 

He was working his way through Cisco’s notes on supercapacitors and magnetic fields when Caitlin, Cisco, and Dr. Wells entered the Cortex.  “What do you think of the trap?” Cisco called over to him.  “I’ve run the numbers and everything looks good so far.  I just want to double-check the inflection points, but after that we can start testing it.  By the time we figure out what to use as bait, it should be ready to go.” 

“That’s just it,” Barry said, rapping his fingers uneasily against the tabletop.  “I was wrong about waiting to figure out what to use as bait for the trap.  We need the tachyon prototype – it’s the fastest option.” 

Dr. Wells wheeled into the lab, his brow furrowed in concern.  “What brought this on?” he asked.  “Just yesterday you seemed quite committed to finding an alternative lure.  Is there a reason you’ve changed your mind?” 

“Yeah – a _reason_ ambushed me at work yesterday,” Barry said.  “The man in yellow showed up across the street from the CCPD.” 

Cisco’s jaw dropped.  “Holy shit.  Doesn’t he know the CCPD is looking for him?”

Barry shrugged.  “If he did know, he didn’t seem to care.  He was waiting for me to notice that he was there – I think he was trying to bait me into following him,” Barry said, feeling a bit ill at how easily he’d been taunted into doing just that.  “The whole thing was some kind of sick joke to him.  He probably could have killed me, but he just wanted to prove that he was faster and stronger.” 

Caitlin set the cup of coffee she was carrying on the desk before crossing the Cortex and wrapping her arms around Barry’s shoulders.  “I really am glad you’re okay.  And we _are_ going to catch him,” she said. 

Barry felt himself relaxing at the hug and at the determination in her voice.  “I wish we had more time,” he sighed.  “But I know you guys will build a solid trap – and we can test it on me before we use it on the man in yellow.  I did at least figure out that he’s a speedster like me, not some other type of meta.” 

“Bummer that this one is such a dick,” Cisco said.  “It would have been really cool to have two speedsters running around STAR Labs.  But we’re gonna catch this speed freak for sure.” 

Barry’s lips twitched.  “Were you trying to come up with a nickname for him or did that just slip out?” 

“That was _not_ an official Cisco-approved nickname,” Cisco said, looking horrified at the prospect.  “Although – he’s a speedster, but he’s evil… so he’s basically the opposite of you,” the engineer said to Barry, looking thoughtful.  “What about the Opposite-Flash?” 

Barry opened his mouth, then paused to consider.  “That’s – actually not bad,” he said.  “He’s even got a mirrored color scheme – yellow suit, red lightning.  It actually kind of fits him.” 

Dr. Wells looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to decide against it.  “Well.  Now that we’ve decided that we _are_ going to go after this… _Opposite-Flash_ , there’s still the matter of acquiring the tachyon prototype.  Barry, do you think a judge will give the CCPD a warrant that would allow them to obtain the tachyon prototype?” 

Barry shook his head.  “Unless we prove that it’s necessary for the investigation, there’s no reason for them to turn it over.  The tachyon prototype is the fastest solution, but it isn’t technically necessary.”

“Yes, you said as much yourself last night,” said Dr. Wells, nodding.  “That means that Dr. McGee will have to hand us the tachyon prototype of her own free will.” 

There was a stumped silence as Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco all looked around at each other.  “What if STAR Labs were to collaborate with Mercury Labs on this?” Caitlin eventually said, looking at Dr. Wells.  “We’re going to be building the trap in this facility, so if we pitch it to Mercury as a joint venture, they might be more willing to let us borrow the prototype than they would be if we just asked for it.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Barry said.  “And the CCPD will definitely want in, since they’re the ones investigating the break-in.” 

“A three-way collaboration,” said Dr. Wells, looking pleased.  “I think that just might work.  It’ll take some finesse, but it should be simple enough once we get the ball rolling.  Cisco, Caitlin, you two keep working on the trap.  Mercury Labs will probably want to conduct their own tests on the trap to ensure the safety of their prototype, so the sooner it’s finished the better off we’ll be.” 

“We’re on it,” Cisco said, rubbing his hands together.  “The Opposite-Flash won’t know what hit him.” 

Dr. Wells smiled indulgently.  “I’m sure he won’t.  Now – I have a few phone calls to make.  Barry, once I get everything arranged with Mercury Labs, we’ll need someone at the police station to make sure that the CCPD’s end of the collaboration falls into place.  We especially need to assess the contributions that the Metahuman Taskforce can make to this little venture,” he said, steepling his fingers.  Barry chuckled inwardly – it was a bit strange to see Dr. Wells so visibly enjoying himself, but he was clearly having fun.  “As we recently learned the hard way, cold is anathema to speedsters,” Dr. Wells continued, looking at Barry.  “If the man in yellow’s physiology is anything like your own, Detective Snart’s abilities will be extremely useful against him.” 

“I’ll make sure he knows.”  Barry nodded his agreement, his stomach doing a little flip at the fact that talking to Len had basically just become his assigned task.  “Cisco, Caitlin, I’ll help you with trap stuff until Dr. Wells gets things ready to go at the CCPD.” 

“Perfect,” Caitlin replied. 

Cisco grinned, looking even more excited than Dr. Wells.  “This is gonna be great.  How do you feel about running into a prototype forcefield at three hundred miles an hour?” 

“Make it four hundred and you’ve got a deal,” said Barry, smirking for a second before sobering.  “We’ve gotta make sure this forcefield holds him.  It’ll be a PR nightmare for STAR Labs if anything happens to the tachyon prototype while it’s here.” 

“That’s our job to worry about,” said Dr. Wells smoothly.  “Allowing Mercury Labs to oversee the construction process should take care of any snags that would arise on that front.  But I’ll warn you – Dr. McGee is almost certainly going to require extra convincing,” he continued, looking over the rims of his glasses.  “And _that,_ Barry, will have to come from you.” 

Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  “Shit – I forgot about that,” he confessed.  “Do you think I’ll be able to wrangle Dr. McGee on my own, though?  I could always wait for you to show up at the station, and we could tackle her together.”

“I have every confidence in you,” Dr. Wells said, and Barry couldn’t help the little flush of pride he felt at his mentor’s words.  “Besides,” Dr. Wells continued with a wry smile, “there is little love lost between the two of us.  You’ll have more luck with Tina if I don’t interfere.” 

Dr. Wells’ optimism was perfectly believable when Barry was in the Cortex, surrounded by the rest of Team Flash, but by the time he went into the precinct several hours later, he was feeling like the actual task of convincing Tina McGee would be harder than his mentor expected. 

The main lobby of the CCPD was the picture of organized chaos – Barry hadn’t seen the station so bustling since Eiling’s military takeover, but the atmosphere this time couldn’t have been more different.  A buzz of productive conversation permeated the air, and the new arrivals were working _with_ the station’s usual residents instead of keeping themselves at an aloof distance. 

The members of the Metahuman Taskforce were already hard at work, interviewing a group of strangers who Barry assumed had to be the researchers from Mercury Labs’ tachyon project.  Barry couldn’t help but marvel inwardly at how fast the entire plan had come together – Dr. Wells may think of himself as a pariah, but he clearly still had considerable pull and influence if he’d managed to coordinate a collaboration of this magnitude in such short order.    

“This is one of the luckier coincidences I’ve seen in my time here,” Lisa said, appearing behind him – Barry jumped nearly a foot at the sound of her voice, but took a deep breath and was able to rein in his startle reflex before he made himself look like an idiot.  “Somehow, Harrison Wells got wind of what happened over at Mercury Labs and is offering to help set a trap for our perp.   He called Captain Singh an hour ago to offer up the old STAR Labs facility as a base of operations.” 

“Shit, really?  What did Singh say?” Barry asked, keeping his face straight but unable to entirely suppress the brief giddy thrill he got from Lisa’s words.  He and Dr. Wells had set the whole thing up, but it was kind of fun to watch it all unfold from the perspective of an outsider.  As far as the people at the CCPD went, only Joe would have any way of guessing that Barry was involved in this project at all.   

“Captain Singh took him up on it,” Lisa said, looking pleased.  “Dr. Wells is even going to consult with the Mercury Labs scientists – he said he’d come down to the station and everything.  I’ve gotta admit, I’m a bit curious about what he’ll be like.” 

“I’ve read his biography.  Apparently he’s brilliant, but a bit of an ass,” Barry said, forcing himself to keep a neutral expression on his face even though he was enjoying the rare opportunity to make fun of Dr. Wells a bit.  Knowing too much about Dr. Wells, or seeming too fond of him, would definitely be bad for his cover.  It was the perfect excuse for a bit of harmless ribbing.   

Lisa looked pensive.  “Yeah, that makes sense.  The whole enigmatic recluse vibe he’s got going on.  But he’s changed my family a lot,” she said, looking across the precinct; Barry followed her gaze to where Len was standing, and saw with a jolt that Len was wearing a short-sleeved shirt in the middle of December.  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Len rocking an unseasonable shirt – Barry still remembered their first trip to Daily Bread, when he’d had to force himself not to stare at Len’s arms. 

It suddenly occurred to Barry that Len’s choice of shirt today had probably been deliberate, designed to call attention to himself.  No one without metahuman abilities would have been able to withstand the weather for long.  By choosing a short-sleeved shirt, Len was making sure that everybody in the station noticed him and recognized him for who and what he was. 

“It’s weird,” Lisa continued quietly, as if she was reading Barry’s mind.  “Having your life influenced so strongly by a man you’ve never met.” 

Barry felt a pang of empathy for Len and Lisa – the Snart siblings had been touched by the particle accelerator accident just as much as he’d been himself, but they hadn’t had access to the same resources to help them get through the changes.  Dr. Wells hadn’t shown up at the hospital to whisk _Len_ away for special treatment – out of all the affected people in the city, Barry was the only one he’d gone out of his way to help.   

It really wasn’t fair. 

Barry continued to watch Len until he realized that Lisa was staring at him, apparently waiting for a response of some kind.  _Shit,_ he thought, quickly looking away from the detective and praying that his face wasn’t red.  It wouldn’t do for Lisa to know he’d been surreptitiously checking out her brother, especially in the middle of an emotionally vulnerable moment.  “Hopefully he’ll help us get the man in yellow before he hurts anyone else,” Barry said, steering the conversation away from his mentor and back to the safer subject of their sting operation.  “Speaking of which, if Dr. Wells is coming to the station, I’m guessing Dr. McGee is going to be here too.  Has she shown up?”    

Lisa nodded.  “She’s been in meetings with Captain Singh and a few of her people for about half an hour.  I think Singh is trying to convince her to hand over the tachyon prototype without a warrant.” 

“Yeah,” Barry sighed, remembering the conversation he’d had with his team about that exact subject.  “I don’t think the judge is gonna sign off on us borrowing the prototype without her consent, even if it is to catch a murdering metahuman.” 

And that, he reflected as he walked across the station floor to Captain Singh’s office, was the crux of the matter.  Without the tachyon prototype, they had no way of getting the man in yellow’s attention; without Dr. McGee’s consent, they had no way of getting the prototype, short of stealing it themselves.  Barry didn’t want to break into Mercury Labs – their security was too tight, and the stakes were way too high now that so many people were involved in this case.  He would do it if he had to, but he was hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.  He’d just have to be extra persuasive instead. 

For some reason, Dr. Wells seemed completely confident that Barry was the key to convincing Dr. McGee to hand over her prototype.  Barry wished he shared his certainty.  Captain Singh was good at his job, and had the weight of law enforcement behind him – Barry was just a CSI.  A good one, yes, but he didn’t have much to offer that Singh or the members of the Metahuman Taskforce didn’t. 

He waited outside the door of Singh’s office, knowing better than to interrupt the meeting in progress.  His patience was rewarded several minutes later, when the door swung open and a mixed group of researchers and police officers poured into the lobby.  Barry peered at their faces as they passed, and his stomach sank when he saw that every single officer was wearing an expression of frustration.  Singh hadn’t managed to convince Dr. McGee to loan them the tachyon prototype – and that meant Barry had to try. 

He took a deep breath.  Dr. McGee hadn’t come out of Singh’s office with the rest of the visiting scientists, so she must still be inside.  Going in there on his own definitely wouldn’t endear him to the captain, but the meeting was over and Barry couldn’t afford to wait – if the rapidity of their timetable was anything to go by, Dr. Wells could very well be on his way to the station right now. 

Barry pushed the door to Singh’s office open, wincing when it squeaked.  Captain Singh and Dr. McGee were still talking, but at the sound of the door hinge, they both turned to look at him.  “Mister Allen,” Singh said, his eyebrows rising slightly in puzzlement.  “What’s the matter?” 

“Um,” Barry said, his mouth going dry under the combined stares of his boss and Dr. McGee, who was even more intimidating in person than Dr. Wells’ picture of her had led him to expect.  He took a deep breath and stepped into the office, extending a hand.  “Dr. McGee, hi.  I’m Barry Allen – one of the CSIs on this case.  I was hoping we could talk?” 

Dr. McGee tilted her head for a second before returning his handshake with a firm grip and a tiny, curious half-smile.  “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Allen,” she said, with a crisp British accent that momentarily took Barry by surprise.  “Captain Singh, do you have any objections if I step out momentarily?” 

“None at all,” Singh replied with a nod.  “If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

Dr. McGee followed Barry out into the lobby and closed the captain’s office door behind her before turning to him.  “What can I help you with today, Mister Allen?” she said.  “If this is about the tachyon prototype, I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you.” 

“First of all, you can call me Barry,” said Barry, hoping that his smile looked natural.  He wasn’t sure what exactly it was about her – maybe it was the accent, or the gruff no-nonsense air she had, but Barry’s gut instinct was that he liked Dr. McGee, even if she did make him nervous.  “And I’m afraid it is about the tachyon prototype,” he said.  “It’s the only sure means we have of catching him.” 

“The tachyon prototype is by no means a sure thing, Mister Allen,” Dr. McGee said.  “Traps can fail, and I do not trust STAR Labs to safeguard such a valuable piece of my technology.” 

“That’s true,” Barry said, grimacing – he’d been worried about this exact conversation.  “But if we don’t catch the man in yellow now, he’s going to try and steal your prototype again.  He’ll kill more of your people, maybe damage your facilities,” he said, his nerves settling as he began to get into the flow of his argument.  “He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.” 

Dr. McGee tilted her head.  “You seem very familiar with this man’s motives and methods, Mister Allen.” 

“I am familiar with them, yeah,” Barry said, rubbing his neck.  He took a deep breath, hoping that this gamble wasn’t about to backfire spectacularly.  “The man in yellow is also the man who killed my mom fourteen years ago.” 

Dr. McGee’s eyes widened slightly, and Barry almost sighed with relief at the visible display of empathy.  “I didn’t know.  I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Barry nodded, appreciating the expression of sympathy but eager to move on with the conversation before his emotions – or his nerves – caught up with him.  “You’ve got to understand why this is so important to me.  This is the closest I’ve come to catching him ever since then, and I’ve been trying for years,” he continued, looking Dr. McGee directly in the eyes.  “I understand why you’re reluctant to give STAR Labs your tachyon prototype, but we need it.  It’s the best chance we have at catching him – maybe our only chance.” 

“I’m sorry, Barry,” Dr. McGee said, her eyes kind but firm.  Barry’s stomach plummeted – that had been his best hope of convincing her, and she’d brushed it aside.  “I wish I could help you, but I’m afraid that’s simply not an option.  My shareholders are depending on me to safeguard their investment.  I’ll tell you what I already told Harrison Wells earlier – regardless of the access he permits my staff, I cannot turn my tachyon prototype over to a facility with such a poor history of protecting its assets.” 

“You already talked to Harrison Wells?” Barry said, his eyes widening – why hadn’t his mentor mentioned this to him?  “I thought the two of you didn’t get along.” 

“That wasn’t always the case.  We used to be friends, Harrison and I,” Dr. McGee said, looking off into space with a distant expression.  “He was different when he was younger.  He was a very earnest man, and he had a certain… _charm_.  You remind me of him,” she said, re-focusing her attention on Barry with a small, sad smile. 

Barry felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.  He wasn’t sure which was more surprising – that Dr. Wells and Dr. McGee had once been friends, or that Dr. McGee thought that Barry and his mentor had so much in common.  Barry couldn’t help but take that as a compliment – one that, to his surprise, he actually believed.  Dr. McGee had nothing to gain from flattering him, so she must have been sincere. 

But that didn’t change what he had to do.  They needed the tachyon prototype.  Maybe Dr. Wells had put such faith in Barry’s ability to acquire it because he knew that Dr. McGee would like him – but the truth of the matter was that she was right to mistrust STAR Labs, and was doing the right thing by safeguarding her shareholders’ investment, and she knew it.  There would be no tachyon prototype from her without a warrant from a judge, not unless Barry was willing to go below the belt. 

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling a bit ill at what he was about to do.  He liked Dr. McGee and respected her integrity – he wished there was another way. 

“You know, Doctor, I had quite the tour of your facility yesterday,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice level and look Dr. McGee directly in the eyes.  “I know how secretive researchers can be about their work – even the eyewitness wouldn’t tell us anything about the tachyon prototype without your express permission.  It’s impressive.” 

Dr. McGee’s eyes narrowed.  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying.”

“I’m saying that not just anyone gets access to your facilities, especially when there’s sensitive research at stake,” Barry continued.  “You were fine to let us dumb cops walk around and comb the place over, but I’m not just a cop – I’m a CSI, _and_ I double-majored in physics and chemistry.  And I saw a lot of interesting things in your research and development lab that I’m sure _Science Showcase Magazine_ would love to hear about.” 

Dr. McGee looked like Barry had just force-fed her a lemon.  “I see,” she said, her mouth flattening into a thin, hard line.  “One of my people will deliver the tachyon device to STAR Labs within the hour.  Give my regards to Harrison Wells when he arrives,” she said, brushing past Barry.  “It seems the two of you are still very much alike after all.” 

Guilt hit Barry like a punch to the gut, but he remained silent – Dr. McGee had every right to be pissed at him.  He hated that he’d had to resort to blackmail with someone who’d just been trying to do the right thing. 

But it was what had to be done, and Barry knew it.  He’d just have to make it up to Dr. McGee by making sure that nothing happened to her prototype. 

The ding of the elevator got Barry’s attention, and he turned to see that Dr. Wells had arrived just as Dr. McGee was leaving.  Barry winced – he could sense the tension in the atmosphere from here, and he was glad he’d be having nothing to do with _that_ conversation. 

He’d have to let Dr. Wells know that he’d gotten the prototype, but that could wait.  He wasn’t up for a conversation with his mentor in this rattled state – and besides, Dr. McGee would probably do the necessary chewing-out for him. 

Luckily, Barry had a perfect excuse to avoid getting entangled in a conversation between two estranged physicists.  Dr. Wells had also asked him to find out what the Taskforce was doing, and he hadn’t talked to Len yet that morning.  The detective seemed like he was wrapping up his conversation with the researchers, so Barry positioned himself near the group and waited until he was able to catch Len’s eye. 

“Some day we’re having,” Len said to Barry once the researchers had gone their own way.  There was a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes that Barry decided looked good on him – his talk with the researchers seemed to have gone well, which was promising.  If Len was happy with their preparations, Barry suspected he would be happy with them too. 

“Tell me about it,” he replied, a smile coming easily to his lips as he felt some of his tension drain away.  He needed to stop thinking about strongarming Tina McGee and focus on the positives instead.  Even though he felt guilty for the duplicity it had taken them to get this far, it felt like this combined venture was the answer – like they were on the precipice of actually achieving something.  “So what is the Metahuman Taskforce going to be doing?” Barry said, steering the conversation toward the information that Dr. Wells wanted to know.  “I’m guessing you’ll be on-site watching the trap.” 

Len nodded.  “In case something fails.  Hopefully it won’t come to that, though,” he said, a quietly amused smile curling at the corners of his mouth.  “In an ideal world, I’d like to be able to give you your mother’s killer as a Christmas present.” 

Barry blushed at the tone of Len’s voice, and he suddenly found himself wishing that they were having this conversation in a more private place.  It was probably a good thing they weren’t alone, though – Barry was already having to expend some energy maintaining eye contact instead of ogling Len’s arms.  _Keep it together, you idiot,_ he chided himself.  He was _not_ going to throw himself into Len’s arms in the middle of the precinct. 

An idea suddenly dawned on him, and Barry gratefully seized the reprieve from the unexpected sexual tension.  “That reminds me – speaking of the holidays,” he said, deciding to spit it out before his nerves could get the better of him.  “I don’t know what your plans are, but my foster mom is having some people over tomorrow night.  Do you and Lisa want to come?” 

Len’s expression of surprise was brief – before Barry could properly observe it, it vanished and was replaced by a small, pleased smile.  “As long as we aren’t imposing, we’d be happy to come,” he said.  “We might have to leave early to meet a friend, though.  Mick usually spends some of the holiday with us.” 

“Mick should stop by Clarissa’s too,” Barry said, surprising himself a bit with his willingness to extend an invitation to a virtual stranger, but forging on ahead all the same.  “I’d like to meet him,” he continued, thinking wryly to himself that it would be a bit interesting, pretending that he hadn’t already run into Mick while he was in costume.  It _was_ logical to extend the invitation, though – Clarissa would enjoy the company, and it wasn’t like they would be short on food if Barry helped with the cooking.  Besides, Len and Lisa could stay at the party longer if Mick was meeting them there, instead of the reverse. 

“Excuse me,” said a familiar, quiet voice behind him, and Barry nearly jumped out of his skin.  Dr. Wells was sitting beneath the mural on the wall.  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to introduce myself.  I’m Doctor Harrison Wells,” he said, maneuvering his wheelchair closer before holding out a hand to Len.  “I take it you must be Leonard Snart?” 

“That’s right,” Len said, shaking Dr. Wells’ offered hand.  “We appreciate you consulting on this case, Doctor.” 

Dr. Wells shrugged, somehow managing to make the gesture look both casual and self-effacing.  “It was only prudent,” he said.  “When they present themselves, I enjoy taking advantage of opportunities to clean up my own messes.”

If Len was wrong-footed by Dr. Wells’ gallows humor, he didn’t show it.  He simply nodded before gesturing to Barry.  “This is Barry Allen,” he said.  “He’s one of the CSIs on this investigation.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Barry,” said Dr. Wells, dipping his head to Barry without a hint of irony.  “Now – I wanted to introduce myself, but I’m also here to retrieve you both.  I believe Captain Singh wants to speak to us all in his office.” 

He turned and wheeled away without another word.  Barry glanced at Len, who shrugged before starting toward the Captain’s office. 

Barry followed, his stomach sinking.  He had no idea what Singh wanted to talk to them about, but he doubted it would be anything good. 

His suspicions were quickly proven accurate – Captain Singh had figured out that Barry planned to be present at the trap site, and had decided to prevent him from being granted access.  “Captain Singh,” Barry protested, his mouth dry.  “You can’t do this.  I have to be there.” 

“Mister Allen, I’m sorry, but there’s no way around it,” Singh said, his expression sympathetic but firm.  “No matter how many safety precautions are taken, the truth of the matter is that trapping this metahuman is a very dangerous prospect.  You aren’t qualified for this, and your presence at STAR Labs could put your safety and the integrity of the operation at risk.” 

Barry opened his mouth and closed it again as he realized, with mute horror, that from his perspective, Singh was absolutely right.  Barry wasn’t a cop – hell, he didn’t even carry a firearm.  If the man in yellow attacked him, he’d be powerless to defend himself without using his speed. 

Barry could have kicked himself – in spite of his promise to himself to think more carefully about getting himself into these kinds of situations, after everything that had happened with Oliver and company when they’d been in Central City, he’d made the same mistake again.  He’d recklessly forged ahead with a plan that looked great on the surface, but in doing so he’d inadvertently backed himself into a situation that he could do nothing about.  He couldn’t argue for his inclusion in the plans for the capture of the Opposite-Flash without justifying the inclusion of a civilian to Captain Singh, who would never go for it.  He couldn’t even appeal to Dr. Wells for help, since the two of them supposedly didn’t know each other.  And he _definitely_ wasn’t going to drag Len into this mess. 

Barry swallowed, feeling an ice-cold wave of adrenaline wash over him as he realized that there was still one thing he could do.  His only option, the only way they’d consider including him in the operation to catch his mother’s killer, was if he came clean to everyone and told them he was the Flash.  Right now. 

Feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, Barry drew in a breath and opened his mouth to speak.  He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say – was he going to admit to everything?  Come up with some other impossible solution that wouldn’t hold water? 

But before he could say a word, Dr. Wells lifted his chin and met Barry’s eyes.  He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, but to Barry the meaning was loud and clear.  _Don’t._

Barry froze, torn by indecision and unable to think clearly through the sudden rush of adrenaline.  He and Dr. Wells both knew that there was no other solution – unless he outed himself as the Flash, Singh wouldn’t let him within feet of the building.  Dr. Wells was telling him that he should sideline himself in the name of protecting his secret identity. 

Dr. Wells shook his head again, and with a nauseous feeling, Barry capitulated.  He wasn’t sure which he was angrier with himself for – the fact that he’d chosen to keep hiding his secret, or the wave of relief that had washed over him the moment he’d decided to do nothing.  “Okay,” he forced out, and Singh looked surprised.  He must have been expecting Barry to fight harder.  “I don’t like it, but I get it.  I’ll stay away from STAR Labs tonight.” 

Len shifted beside him, and Barry suddenly hoped that he wouldn’t try to change Singh’s mind on his behalf – it was a nice sentiment, but it would be nearly impossible to brush off as anything but favoritism and it would probably get Len into trouble.  “But if anything goes wrong, I expect someone to tell me _right away,_ ” Barry continued, looking Dr. Wells straight in the eyes. 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “Of course, Mister Allen.  I’ll see to it that you are personally notified of any developments, good or bad, either by myself or by a member of my staff.” 

“Good.”  Barry turned his back on Singh and Dr. Wells and began to leave the room.  It was rude as fuck, but he was too shaken to deal with any more of this heart-pounding nonsense right now and he needed to get _out of there_.  At the last second, he decided to bring Len with him – he still had to warn the detective about the Opposite-Flash’s weakness to the cold, and he didn’t want to do it in the middle of the captain’s office. 

He moved to grab Len’s shirtsleeve, but when his hand made contact with the skin of Len’s wrist, Barry’s heart stuttered as he realized that he had miscalculated.  Len barely felt the cold at all, and today he’d chosen to flaunt it – which meant that Len _didn’t have shirtsleeves._ He was wearing short sleeves in the middle of December, and Barry had already noticed, but he’d been so focused on pretending he wasn’t staring at Len’s arms that he hadn’t even looked at what he was grabbing ahold of just now. 

Barry felt himself start to sweat.  Fuck, he’d basically just grabbed Len’s hand in the middle of the precinct.  There was no way he was going to be able to play this off as an accident – he’d just have to pretend that hauling Len out of the office by his wrist was what he’d been going for the entire time and pray that nobody called him on it. 

“So!” Barry said, releasing Len’s wrist as soon as they were in the lobby.  “That was some bullshit in there.  But it’ll be fine,” he said, clapping his hands together, doing his best to look optimistic but aware that he probably sounded like a lunatic.  “You guys will catch him, STAR Labs will give me a call once he’s safely under wraps, I’ll come down there, and we’ll get a confession out of this guy and get my dad out of prison.  That’s the plan now.”    

Len looked faintly amused by Barry’s babbling, but once Barry fell silent, his expression gradually shifted to one of worry.  “I know this isn’t what you wanted,” he said.  “There might be a chance I can convince Captain Singh to change his mind.” 

“Don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head.  He didn’t want Len sticking his neck out for him and possibly getting into trouble for it when Barry was still hiding so many secrets, but it did make him happy that Len was willing to try.  “Singh was right about one thing, at least.  You guys will do your jobs better if I’m not there to get in your way.  I actually had a suggestion for you,” he said, swallowing.  “In case something goes wrong, and you have to fight the man in yellow yourself.” 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  “I’m all ears.” 

Barry forced himself not to fidget – it was one of his most obvious tells, and he didn’t want Len to question what Barry was about to suggest.  “You know that thing you do sometimes, when you’re using your powers and the room gets all cold?  You did it the first time we met,” he said, suddenly remembering their nearly-disastrous first encounter with a flicker of affection. 

Len nodded.  “It’s something I generally try to prevent,” he said.  “I’ve found that targeted applications of my powers tend to be more effective.” 

“You should try to weaponize it this time,” said Barry, swallowing before he continued, “if anything goes wrong.  Cold is the opposite of speed – metabolic functions, chemical reactions, everything runs slower in the cold.  I bet speedsters do too.” 

“I’ll remember that,” said Len, looking thoughtful.  Barry guessed he was remembering his prior confrontations with the Flash, and how susceptible the speedster he’d already gotten to know had been to his cold blasts.  “Good thinking.  How’d you come up with it?”

_Practical experience,_ Barry wanted to say, but couldn’t.  He shrugged instead.  “Just something I thought of while I was trying to go to sleep last night.  I thought it might help you.” 

The lie slipped out easily, and it took some of the wind out of Barry’s sails. 

He had no right to have Len at his back like this – not when he wasn’t being honest with him. 

* * *

Instead of going back to Caitlin’s apartment or STAR Labs, Barry made a beeline for Iris’ house as soon as he got off work, letting himself in using the key Iris had given him when they were in middle school.  He knew that Joe would still be at the station, and he’d already texted Iris to confirm that she didn’t have any plans tonight and would be okay to sit with him while everything at STAR Labs was going down. 

Cisco had promised to send Barry an SOS if anything even looked like it was going to go wrong with the trap, and it was only that promise, combined with the fact that Mercury Labs employees had been going over every square inch of the trap since late that afternoon, that was allowing Barry to relax at all.  Even so, he still wasn’t doing particularly well – between the conversation he’d had with Dr. McGee, his massive lie of omission to Len and Captain Singh, and the increasingly-uncomfortable realization that he was being a really shitty friend to Len and Lisa, Barry had plenty of things to be a mess over besides the hunt for his mother’s killer. 

Barry heard the front door of the house squeak open, and whipped around to face the entrance.  He relaxed when he saw Iris, but couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that overcame him at the sight of his best friend.  He’d asked her to come stay with him, but with the direction his thoughts were running, he was going to be shitty company.  

“Hey, Barr,” Iris said, not looking surprised at the probably-grim expression on his face.  “You hanging in there?” 

“Define ‘hanging,’” Barry said, smiling ruefully.  “I’m a bit of a mess.  I can’t even count on Grandma Esther’s famous eggnog to take the edge off anymore.” 

“Now _that_ is a tragedy,” Iris said, taking a seat on the sofa.  Barry leaned into her, enjoying the relatively straightforward comfort of the contact.  “I’m bringing a massive batch of it to Clarissa’s house tomorrow, by the way.” 

Barry’s stomach lurched at the thought of the party.  “It’s gonna be a full house,” he said, guiltily realizing that he hadn’t let Clarissa know about the extra people he’d invited.  He pulled out his phone and fired off an update on the headcount; it was a good thing that he could use his superpowers to help with the prepwork in the kitchen.  “I invited Cisco and Caitlin – Dr. Wells turned me down, but Len, Lisa, and a friend of theirs are probably coming too.  I invited them this afternoon.” 

Iris beamed.  “Barr, that’s _great!_   It’s a shame about Dr. Wells, but it’ll be nice to have everyone else in a room together for the holidays.  And Len can finally meet Cisco and Caitlin.”

Barry’s stomach flipped – Len had technically _already_ met Cisco and Caitlin separately, but the three of them had never been in the same place at the same time before.  Another thing to add to his mounting list of anxieties – Captain Cold was going to be _meeting his team_. 

He’d have to warn everyone to act natural, but what if one of them slipped up and said something that gave the game away?  Shit, Barry hadn’t even thought of that.  Since when had he become so eager to be liked that it had made him careless?  “I shouldn’t have invited him,” he murmured, his heart sinking at the realization that his secrets and double life were going to cast a shadow on the holidays. 

The worried look returned to Iris’ face.  “What do you mean?” she demanded.  “Cisco and Caitlin can keep a secret, and it’s going to be a good thing that he’ll be there.  Besides, you really like Len.”

Her choice of words struck a bit too close to home – Barry’s stomach lurched, and something must have shown on his face because Iris’ eyes widened.  “Oh my god, Barry.  Did you finally realize that you have a massive puppy-dog crush on Leonard Snart?” 

Barry groaned, burying his face in his hands.  “Was it really that obvious?” 

“To Len?  Doubtful,” Iris said, her voice holding a trace of a laugh.  “But Lisa and I noticed a while back.  Both of you are hopeless cases.” 

Barry looked back at her; Iris was smiling fondly at him, and Barry suddenly felt very tired.  “That pretty much sums it up – a hopeless case.” 

“No it’s not,” Iris said, shaking her head with a grin.  “I have it on good authority that-”

He couldn’t listen to this.  “No, Iris, this is a disaster,” Barry interrupted.  

Her buoyant smile froze on her face.  “Barr, what…”

“Don’t you see how fucked-up this is?” Barry said, feeling sick to his stomach.  “Yeah, sure, I like Len, but I’ve also been lying to him _since he met me._ He’s known me as the Flash for longer than he’s known me as Barry Allen!”  Barry threw his hands up in the air, smiling bleakly as he allowed himself to contemplate the full scope of the mess he’d made for himself.  “We became friends under false pretenses, and now I’ve gone and developed _feelings_ for him?  It’s bullshit.  If someone did something like this to me – I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive them for it.”  He fell silent and stared at his best friend, whose face had twisted into cross between a grimace and a sympathetic smile.  “You did tell me that getting myself involved in all this stuff at the CCPD was a mistake,” he sighed.  “I’m still waiting for you to say ‘I told you so.’”

“You know I’d never do that, Barr,” Iris sighed fondly, offering him an arm.  He hesitated for an imperceptible second before slipping under it, curling up and resting his head against her shoulder.  “I’ve gotta say, though,” she chuckled weakly, “when I said that things were going to get complicated, I was expecting you to out yourself as a superhero by speeding your way through a crime scene or something.”  Her smile was soft, exasperated but fond.  “I didn’t think you’d actually fall in love with the guy.”  

Barry felt lead settle into his stomach, and for a second everything went blurry and out of focus.  He shook himself out of it, but he could feel his heart hammering away in his chest, fast even for him.  He swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head.  “Yeah, I’m - Iris, I’m not in love with him.”

Iris looked puzzled.  “But you are.  Or at least you’re on your way there.  I’m sorry if I completely freaked you out, but you really seem like you care about Len a lot.  It’s been a long time since I saw you act this way around somebody.”

Barry choked on a hysterical giggle – she still had _no fucking clue_.   “No, Iris, I _can’t_ be in love with him.  I _run away_ from the people I’m in love with.  Last time I figured out I had feelings for someone, I packed up my bags, transferred colleges, and got the fuck out of town, _”_ he said, squirming a bit at revealing something he found so distasteful about himself, but not really caring about what Iris thought of the confession.  “I’m definitely not in love with Leonard Snart,” he sighed.  “But… I think that maybe I could be?  If I let myself.  And that… actually scares the shit out of me.”  

The admission wrenched its way out of his chest, but once he said it, Barry felt like he could breathe a little easier.  He could work with this.  He had a crush on Len - he wasn’t in _love_ with Len, but one day, if they got that far, he might be.  It was overly simplified, yeah, but it felt – concrete.  Like something Barry could analyze and think about without feeling like he was going to lose his mind. 

Iris didn’t say anything in response, and Barry leaned over to look at her.  Her uncharacteristic silence in the wake of Barry’s confession was explained when he saw her face – she was clearly deep in thought, puzzling something over.  Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, but her eyes suddenly widened as she reached a conclusion.  “Oh my god.  _That’s_ why you moved to Starling City?” she said, her fingers gripping his shoulder.  “Because you had feelings for someone and you couldn’t deal with it?”   

Barry swallowed, his hands flexing convulsively.  _Shit._ This was not the subject change Barry had been hoping for – but at this point, he was just going to have to roll with it.  “Okay, but Iris, it wasn’t just any random someone – it was _you,”_ he sighed, hating that he was even confessing to this but also so fucking relieved at being able to get one secret off his chest, even if it wasn’t one that mattered much in the grand scheme of things.  “And it wasn’t the only reason I left – I had been thinking about getting out of Central City for a long time before that.  I wanted to try living on my own, and my dad and foster parents were all for it.  Those random feelings for you were just a catalyst.  And those feelings are _long gone_ , for the record,” he said, shifting uncomfortably – Iris was _staring at him_ , and the silence was beginning to get heavy. 

Iris nodded slowly.  “Okay.  That’s fine.  I’m not gonna freak out, I promise.  Besides, I had a crush on you for like, three months in high school,” she said, smirking briefly.  “This stuff happens.  But why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her eyebrows turning up at the corners.

“Because it wasn’t your fault!” Barry said, waving his free hand as if he could somehow encompass the entirety of the gross, entitled friendzone mentality in a single gesture.  “You never asked for me to have feelings for you, and I sure as hell never _wanted_ them,” he sighed.  “I was so used to going to you about everything, but I couldn’t talk to you about this.”

“I wish you had talked to me about it,” Iris said, a faint catch in her voice.  Barry looked at her face and his stomach lurched when he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes – _fuck, shit,_ she was _crying,_ he was a terrible friend.  “Even if your feelings didn’t go away, we would have figured something out.  I thought you were going to Starling because it was what you wanted, and I was happy for you - but Barry, I _missed_ you.  And then you came back to visit and see the particle accelerator turn on, and you were in a coma for nine months, and I thought -”  She bit her lip, tears spilling down her face in earnest.  “You could have died, or never come out of that coma,” she said, gritting her teeth and rallying, “and I’d never have seen you again.”

Barry pulled Iris into a hug and let her cry, feeling the back of his own eyelids prickle in sympathy.  He rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes.  “Iris, I promise.  No matter what happens, I’m not gonna run away again.  I’m staying in Central City.”  

Iris gave a watery chuckle.  “Even if things go south with Len?”

“Even if things go south with Len,” Barry repeated, ignoring the tension that ratcheted through his shoulders at the thought – there were so many things that could go wrong.  “You know you’re important to me, Iris,” he sighed, pulling away to look her in the eyes.  “I wouldn’t have left, but… At the time, all I could think about was what you’d do if you found out how I felt.  It seems stupid now, but I really thought I might lose you forever.”  

“You wouldn’t have.”  Iris punched his shoulder gently before wiping the tears off her face.  “Dummy.  We’ve dealt with way weirder things than you having a crush me.”  

“Like the time that you stole your dad’s uniform to bring to fifth grade show-and-tell and he showed up to get it in his sweatpants?”  Barry said, smirking.  

“Or the time they had to fumigate the gym because of your middle school science fair project,” Iris giggled.  “Dr. Stein was so impressed.”

“I think that was the day he started seeing me as his actual son.”  Barry smiled, but it was more subdued as he thought about his missing foster father.  

Iris’ expression was sympathetic; she’d clearly noticed the turn his thoughts had taken.  His best friend could always tell what he was thinking.  “I don’t know if I’ve ever said this, but – I’m glad you’re with Eddie,” Barry blurted out, changing the subject before thoughts of Martin could make him feel even worse.  “He’s a good officer, and he’s a nice guy.  He treats you right.  I’d even go so far as to say he’s _almost_ good enough for you,” he said, his smile teasing.  

Iris grinned and she squeezed his shoulder.  “Well I’m glad you approve,” she said, smirking.  “Here’s hoping my dad jumps on board.”  

“Between you and me, I think he’s coming around.” Barry wiggled his eyebrows, feeling lighter than he had since he’d visited Mercury Labs.   _Was that really just yesterday?_

“Took him long enough,” Iris said, before leveling a more serious smile at Barry.  “I’m still happy you’ve found someone you like,” she said, her mouth quirking up more at the corners.  “Even if things are a bit… complicated.”  

Barry’s lips twitched.  “That is the biggest understatement.”  But his feelings for Len - whatever they were - seemed less daunting now that Iris knew, too.   _Why didn’t I talk to her about this sooner?_ he wondered.   _I should have known it would help._ “But,” he continued, smile widening, “I am glad that I have your support.”  

Iris’ smile was soft.  Her fingers tapped the back of his hand, and he flipped it over so she could rest them on his palm.  “You will always have my support, Barry Allen, whether you want it or not.”  She narrowed her eyes, rapping the knuckles of her other hand against his collarbone.  “And you’d better not forget it.”  

Barry raised his free hand in surrender.  “I won’t!”

“Good.”  Iris squeezed his hand and stood up from the sofa.  “Now come give me a hand.  I’m not showing up to Clarissa’s tomorrow empty-handed, and Grandma Esther’s famous eggnog isn’t going to make itself.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish I could have included some Len POV in this chapter, but there was no good way to fit it in. Luckily the next chapter will have some Len POV, because it's nearly time for the big showdown! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this update! The next chapter will probably be a more reasonable length, but if it runs away from me again I'm not going to complain too much.


	24. Alone In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Sorry it's been so long since the last update. I burned out hard in the middle of this chapter and had to work on finishing up other WIPs until I got back enough juice to work on this fic. Hopefully the results are worth it! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter once I got back into the swing of things. As is pretty much par for the course with these updates, this chapter ended up much longer than I'd planned, so I split it at the place that made the most sense. There will now be twenty-six chapters posted before the hiatus, not twenty-five! 
> 
> Either way, it's good to be back. I missed sharing this fic with you, and I hope you enjoy the update. I'll be replying to comments tonight and tomorrow morning. On several occasions I went back and reread the feedback I received on the past few chapters, and it was actually a reader's comment that gave me the idea I needed to unstick myself and keep going with the chapter. In case you ever wonder whether or not your comments help me, I can assure you that they definitely do. <3

As the evening drew on, Len found himself wanting to pace in circles around Lisa’s lab.  He suppressed the inclination ruthlessly.  Pre-mission jitters were understandable, especially with so much at stake, but pacing and fidgeting were useless outlets for his tension.  He’d be better served if he poured this nervous energy into something that could actually help him prepare for tonight. 

“Are you bundled up?” he said to his sister. 

Lisa shot Len a look from inside her multiple layers of winter clothing.  “This scarf is cutting off my breathing,” she huffed.  “If you don’t ice this place over in a hurry, I’m going to die of heatstroke in the middle of winter.  Shouldn’t you have called Mick to help you with this?”

Len shook his head.  “Can’t risk him finding out where I’ll be tonight,” he said simply. 

Lisa rolled her eyes.  “He’s gonna kill you when he finds out you kept him out of the loop on this.  Don’t his powers have something to do with kinetic energy?  He’d be great to have along against the man in yellow.” 

“Mick’s better at speeding things up than slowing them down,” Len explained, feeling a bit guilty about the half-truth.  As far as they could tell, Mick could intensify the molecular vibrations of objects he touched until they spontaneously combusted.  He’d been learning to slow things down, but he still found it challenging, like trying to sing the alphabet backwards.   

But Len hadn’t told his best friend because he thought Mick would get in Len’s way.  He’d kept the operation a secret because he didn’t want Mick _involved._   The last time someone had banked on Mick’s friendship with Len as a means to get him to show up to a fight, he’d nearly been captured by the military.  Dr. Wells may have seemed like he was on the level, but Len didn’t want him anywhere near his best friend if he could help it. 

Len took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the ice in his veins, pushing his lingering worries to the back of his mind.  Barry’s suggestion for a new use of his powers had been a good one, and in theory it should be easy for him.  When his abilities had first manifested, Len had chilled his sister’s entire apartment just by sitting in it.  Control of his powers had come gradually; it had been a week before he could take a sip from a room-temperature cup of water without icing over the surface of the glass, and he and Lisa had both celebrated the milestone. 

If he was being honest with himself, Len found the prospect of reverting to such a broad-scale application of his powers… distasteful.  It brought to mind those first, hard weeks, when they’d had no idea what was happening to him and he’d been unable to control both his powers and his own fear of them. 

Len closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, forcing himself to think of the present problem, and what was happening _right now._ He’d learned to control his powers, and now he needed to use them in a different way. 

He was doing this for Barry, for Henry Allen, and for the other people whose lives had been touched by the man in yellow, whether they were alive or dead. 

“Alright, Lenny, I think you can let up,” Lisa said, breaking Len’s concentration.  Len grimaced and opened his eyes, irritated at his lapse in focus, but his eyebrows rose when he caught sight of the lab. 

A fine layer of frost had coated every flat surface; as Len turned slowly to survey the scene, he found himself glad that Lisa had insisted on putting all of her paperwork into a drawer before they’d begun this experiment.  He noted the delicate frost patterns that had formed on the windows, and when he exhaled he saw his breath form a cloud in front of him, as if he were standing outside on a cold winter day. 

Lisa opened the door to the lab, and Len breathed a sigh of relief when the warm air from outside began to melt the dusting of ice crystals.  “Well I think it’s safe to say you’ve got the hang of that,” she said, giving Len a pleased smile as she unwrapped her scarf from around her neck. 

“Seems like it,” Len said, frowning to himself.  He’d managed to lower the ambient air temperature, but he wasn’t sure _how._ As far as he was aware, he hadn’t even made a conscious choice to use his abilities.

Then again, he thought wryly, the last few times he’d iced over an entire room, he’d done it when he had been startled or taken by surprise.  If it was a matter of _scaring_ the cold out of him, he wouldn’t have much trouble weaponizing a lapse in control against the man in yellow. 

And the concept of baiting such a dangerous metahuman was enough to give Len what Lisa had indelicately called _the heebie-jeebies,_ even without accounting for how creepy STAR Labs was after dark.  When it had been operational, STAR Labs had always struck Len as a stately piece of architecture.  Its sleek, circular structure had reminded Len of a gigantic flying saucer, especially with its mirrored windows, and its three triangular spires were an integral part of the Central City skyline.  In the fallout of the particle accelerator explosion, STAR Labs’ omnipresence no longer seemed like such a good thing.  Even with its credibility lost, the stage presence of the building itself meant that nobody would be able to forget about what had happened here, no matter how much they might want to.    

As he stood in front of the derelict facility, Len couldn’t help but wonder how anyone still managed to work here, or if it was even legal for them to be doing so.  FEMA had classified STAR Labs as a Class Four Hazardous Location after the particle accelerator explosion, but Dr. Wells must have maintained a skeleton crew of some sort or they would never have been able to construct a working trap in time, even with the assistance of Mercury Labs. 

It was almost enough to tempt Len into opening up an investigation, if he could find enough probable cause.  Almost.  Cases involving STAR Labs seldom found their way into the courts.  Every private lawsuit Len had heard about after the particle accelerator explosion had ended with the plaintiff being caught between a rock and a hard place.  In this case, that meant being offered a modest settlement with a nondisclosure agreement attached, while knowing that if you _didn’t_ settle, Dr. Wells’ small army of immaculately-coiffed lawyers would wave their magic wands and simply make your case… disappear. 

“Something on your mind, Detective?” said the voice of Dr. Wells behind him.  _Speak of the devil._ Len turned and saw the physicist approaching him from across the parking lot.  “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts.” 

“None at all, Doctor,” Len said smoothly.  It wasn’t a lie; he was fully committed to their plan tonight, even if he would have preferred to avoid crossing paths with Dr. Wells.  Len wasn’t sure what it was about him, but there was something unsettling about the way his piercing eyes managed to look down on you, even while he was looking up at you. 

With a flicker of guilt, Len realized that a part of him was glad that Barry wasn’t here.  The three of them had only shared a brief interaction at the station, but Len had still felt an impulse to step in front of Barry and keep Dr. Wells from looking at him at all. 

“Good,” said Dr. Wells, breaking their eye contact to glance at his watch.  “We’re running on schedule – Dr. McGee and her people from Mercury Labs have already joined us, and everything on our end has already been settled.  If I recall, we’re only waiting on the rest of the Metahuman Taskforce, yes?” 

Len nodded.  “The others are on their way.  I tend to provide my own transportation.” 

Dr. Wells turned and looked around the parking lot briefly before returning his attention to Len.  “Motorcycle,” he noted, his mouth turning up briefly at the corners.  “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type, Detective.” 

Len nodded, keeping the gesture noncommittal.  He had no interest in being drawn into a conversation about his transportation preferences with Harrison Wells.  “If you can point me in the direction of the trap, I’ll see myself inside,” he said instead. 

Dr. Wells tilted his head.  “Are you sure?  I’ve been told that STAR Labs’ layout can be quite confusing if you’re a first-time visitor.” 

“I’m good with directions,” Len countered.  “And you’ll find that the other members of the Taskforce will be more inclined to w _ander_ than I will.”  Being forceful with Dr. Wells felt like a gamble, but Len was willing to take the risk if it meant he could avoid walking through a darkened lab with its owner watching his every move. 

Dr. Wells seemed to recognize the statement for what it was.  He inclined his head briefly in acknowledgment before gesturing toward the building.  “The trap has been constructed in one of our basement testing rooms,” he said.  “The most direct route is through the side entrance, next to the garage.  I’ll ask Dr. McGee to send one of her employees to show you the rest of the way through the facility.” 

Len sighed internally.  So much for being unaccompanied.  He wondered why Dr. Wells hadn’t decided to send one of his own people to escort him to the basement, but acknowledged that there was no way of asking without sounding like he was prying. 

By the time he made it to the door Dr. Wells had indicated, there was someone waiting at the door for him; to his surprise, it wasn’t a researcher, but Dr. McGee herself.  “I’m surprised to see you, Doctor,” he said.  “Would’ve guessed that you’d be with your people downstairs.” 

“I needed the fresh air,” Dr. McGee said with a tight smile before holding the door open for him.  She led Len down several flights of stairs before they emerged into a long, narrow hallway lit by blue emergency lights.  “The trap is on this floor,” she said.  “We’ve heard from the CCPD and the rest of the Metahuman Taskforce is on their way.  You didn’t come with them?” 

“I like to be punctual,” Len said.  “And I want to see your trap for myself, _before_ the man in the yellow suit puts in an appearance.” 

When they entered the room, Len’s attention was immediately drawn to the far side of the chamber, where a large circular dais had been constructed.  The structure was surrounded on either side by two arches, which were being checked over by a small army of technicians and researchers.  “I’m guessing those arches generate the trap,” Len said to Dr. McGee.  “Some kind of forcefield?” 

Dr. McGee looked at Len with an assessing expression before nodding.  “The arches contain a series of magnetic supercapacitors that will generate an electromagnetic forcefield once activated.  Once he’s contained inside, the metahuman will be unable to escape.”   

Len nodded.  “And how will we be activating the forcefield?” 

“The trap operates on a proximity trigger,” Dr. McGee explained.  “When the man in yellow enters the trap, it will trigger the forcefield, containing him.” 

“I see,” Len said, suppressing the urge to frown.  The entire plan hinged on whether or not a proximity-triggered forcefield would be fast enough to catch a speedster.  Len would have been happier with more failsafes, but at this point there wasn’t an alternative.  At least with Mercury Labs putting the safety of their prototype on the line, there was plenty of incentive to test it. 

“Satisfied?” Dr. McGee asked, pulling Len from his thoughts.  “If you’ve seen enough, it’s nearly time for us to begin.” 

Len allowed himself to be bundled into a room at the end of the hall along with the rest of the personnel on site.  The close quarters weren’t enjoyable, but Len understood the necessity.  The room had to be clear in order for the trap to be activated; it was unlikely that the man in yellow would come speeding into a room full of researchers, no matter how brazenly confident he was.  That didn’t mean Len had to like it.  Aside from the close physical proximity, the anticipatory air in the room was so thick that Len could have cut it with a knife.  He was almost tempted to make a joke, just to dispel some of the tension. 

A shadow fell across the crowd, and Len turned to see that Dr. Wells had appeared in the doorway.  “Looks like the gang’s all here,” the physicist said, edging his chair to the side so that a group of CCPD officers, West and Thawne among them, could crowd into the room.  “I’ve instructed my people to activate the trap,” Dr. Wells continued, moving into the room once everyone had filed inside.  “Once they do, the tachyon device will begin broadcasting pulses of tachyonic particles that will be visible, via satellite imaging, to anyone looking for them, including our man in yellow.  Once he appears and is trapped by the forcefield, my team will let me know that the metahuman has been contained and the coast is clear.  Until we receive that signal, we must all remain still and absolutely silent.  Is that understood?”  Heads nodded mutely all around them, and Dr. Wells smiled.  “Good.  Let’s catch ourselves a speedster.” 

Len thought he saw Dr. Wells’ ice-blue eyes lingering on him before the lights turned off and the room was plunged into blackness. 

A shiver ran down Len’s spine.  Total darkness was necessary to maintain the illusion that the lab was vacant, and he shouldn’t have been surprised.  But there was something about being trapped in a confined space with two dozen other people that grated on the nerves, regardless of the necessity.  It was like a stakeout on steroids. 

Deprived of his vision, Len felt like his other senses had been dialed up to compensate.  He felt hyper-aware of very rustle of fabric, every breath of the people around him.   Anything out of the ordinary was a potential threat, and Len had to force his powers into submission so that he didn’t chill the people standing near him.

Len began to count the passing seconds, and felt a sense of calm pass over him as he focused on the rhythmic ticking of his internal metronome.  He’d always been better with time than most, and while his old man had used it to advantage on his jobs, Len had found that counting seconds worked well to soothe him in situations where his nerves would have otherwise become frayed from waiting.

After almost ten minutes of near-total silence, a faint squeaking sound and a few muffled footfalls made Len narrow his eyes.  He couldn’t pinpoint the source of the noise; it sounded like it was coming from near the door, but there shouldn’t have been anyone there. 

Then Len was nearly blinded by a flash of red lightning as the man in the yellow suit ran directly past the room where they were hiding.  He curled his fingers into fists and took a deep breath.  The monster under Barry’s bed was here in the lab with them.  Now all that remained to be seen was whether or not the speedster would take the bait. 

For eighteen tense seconds, the entire room held its breath.  Then, the sound of machinery rumbled to life. 

Len’s lips curved upward in a smile.  They were in business. 

“Ramon, lights!” called Dr. Wells’ voice from the doorway.  The lights in the room and hall came on, forcing Len to squeeze his eyes shut against the glare.  With the corner of his mind that wasn’t focused on the trap, Len filed away the name _Ramon_ for future reference.  It must belong to one of Dr. Wells’ mysterious unseen employees, possibly the person controlling the trap. 

Dr. Wells rubbed his hands together, surveying the room with a pleased smile on his face.  “Well, ladies and gentlemen.  Let’s go see what we caught.”

Dr. Wells led the pack of officers and scientists into the trap room, with Len following close behind. 

From Barry’s description, Len had gotten an idea of what he could expect when he first saw the man in yellow: glowing red eyes, red lightning, and a yellow suit.  But seeing Barry’s childhood demon in the flesh was worse than he’d expected.  For a second, Len stopped in his tracks at the sight of the nearly-inhuman figure standing behind the blue screen of the forcefield.  His brain stuttered for a second at the unreality of the situation, and his lips thinned.  He’d listened to Barry’s story, but it seemed that seeing was believing. 

As the police officers and researchers swarmed into the room and caught sight of the blurred yellow figure in the trap, Len’s second feeling was one of bizarre relief.  There was no chance that this man was simply the Flash in a different costume; he was shorter, for one thing, and his shoulders were much broader than those of the Scarlet Speedster.  Len knew the other officers from the precinct would notice the difference and remember it.  Any remaining doubts about the identity of the killer at Mercury Labs would be silenced, now that they all had seen the man in yellow for themselves. 

But there were plenty of other similarities between the two speedsters, enough that Len narrowed his eyes and stared more closely at the man in yellow.  It was hard to get a good look, between the man’s blurry outline and the wavering blue of the forcefield, but the metahuman’s suit looked remarkably like the Flash’s.  His mask was styled the same way, and was crowned with the same lightning-bolt earpieces that the Flash had.  There was even a lightning-bolt emblem on his chest.  The colors of the suit were wrong, but everything else was so similar that it couldn’t possibly be chalked up to coincidence. 

Len’s mind raced.  There were only two options.  Either the man who’d killed Barry’s mother was mimicking the Flash, or the Flash was mimicking him.  Regardless of which was true, there was a connection implied between the two speedsters – one that Len would have no choice but to investigate. 

Whether the Flash wanted to speak to him or not, there were too many unexplained coincidences for Len to leave this alone. 

“Detective West?” said Dr. Wells levelly, tilting his head back to study the man they’d caged as if he was an interesting insect pinned to a collector’s card.  “Would you like to read him his rights?” 

Len stepped forward instead, ignoring the noise of protest that Detective Thawne made.  “First, I want to ask you some questions,” he said to the man in the trap, holding his baleful red stare with an effort of will.  “Fourteen years ago, you murdered Nora Allen.  I want to know how, and why.” 

The man in yellow stared at him for a long moment before turning away, brushing off Len’s question as if he hadn’t spoken at all.  “Doctor Wells,” he said instead.  Len’s blood ran cold at the sound of his voice, harsh and warped and so much more inhuman than the Flash had ever sounded.  “We meet at last.” 

Len’s eyebrows rose as Dr. Wells wheeled past him, halting just in front of the trap.  “It seems my reputation has preceded me,” he said, his voice wry.  “What do you want with the tachyonic particles?” 

“My goals are beyond your understanding,” the man in the yellow suit said. 

“I don’t know,” Dr. Wells said, tilting his head up.  “I’ve been told I’m a pretty smart guy.” 

Len could imagine the small smirk on Dr. Wells’ face, and he gritted his teeth, wishing that the man would be just a bit more careful.  His instincts were screaming that Dr. Wells was too close to the trap, but if the physicist was able to get the man in yellow to talk when Len couldn’t, it would be hard to come up with a justification for interfering unless something suddenly went wrong. 

Fortunately for Dr. Wells, the trap seemed to be holding.  “I knew you were exceptionally fast, so any trap we manufactured would have to be invisible,” the physicist said, seeming content to monologue for the time being. “I also knew your cells could repair themselves at extraordinary speeds, so you could withstand the damage this is doing to your body right now.”  Len took a small step forward and glanced sideways into Dr. Wells’ face.  The physicist’s tiny smile reminded Len of a shark that had just smelled blood in the water.  “The _reason_ I know all this is because your powers are _almost exactly_ like those of the Flash.”

Len’s eyes widened as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place.  Dr. Wells had been able to come up with a working speedster trap quickly – almost _too_ quickly.  Len had been willing to chalk STAR Labs’ success up to talent and efficiency, but what if there was more to it than that?  What if the trap for the man in yellow had been designed based on what Dr. Wells had learned from another speedster? 

“Oh, I’m not like the Flash at all,” the man in yellow said, a smile just barely visible beneath his cowl.  “Some would say I’m the _reverse._ ”

In front of them, the forcefield flickered, then went out. 

Adrenaline surged through Len’s veins, but before he could move a muscle, the man in yellow had darted out of the trap and snatched Dr. Wells from his wheelchair. 

Len lunged for the dais, an ice bolt already coalescing into the palm of his hand, but the trap flickered back to life again just before he reached it.  He collided with the forcefield and bounced backward, pinwheeling his arms but recovering in time to keep himself from landing on his ass. 

Behind him, there were several screams as the scientists processed what was happening.  Len turned and saw them scrambling away from the trap, nearly tripping in their haste to get away.  “Don’t panic!” he said, hoping that the other officers could get the situation under control before someone was trampled. 

Inside the trap, the man in yellow seemed to be making it his mission to disassemble Dr. Wells in the most painful way possible.  Len’s stomach churned as the speedster’s fist impacted against Dr. Wells’ jaw with a wet-sounding _smack._ What made it infinitely worse was that Len was certain the speedster could have killed the physicist just as quickly and efficiently as he’d murdered the security guards and Barry’s mother.  Instead he was drawing it out, playing with his food in front of a horrified audience. 

Len’s heart sank as he realized they’d been played.  The man in yellow had taken advantage of the split-second gap in the forcefield to take a hostage, and now he was forcing their hand.  The only way to intervene and save Dr. Wells was for them to turn off the forcefield, giving the speedster the opening he needed to steal the tachyon prototype. 

There was also a very real chance that he’d kill every scientist and cop in the room for good measure.  

But they couldn’t stand by and watch while the man in yellow murdered Harrison Wells in cold blood.  They needed to buy time.  And Len could do that.    

“Carmichael, Mullins, Vulkovitch, clear the room and get everyone out,” Len ordered, keeping his voice calm and level as he began to focus on channeling his powers.  He couldn’t react to the near-hysteria in the room if he wanted people to follow his orders.  “West, Thawne, start disabling the trap.  We need to get Doctor Wells away from that thing.” 

West and Thawne dove for the trap without a word of contradiction.  The scientists seemed to break from their stupor for long enough to make a run for the door, guided by the police officers, and Len watched with satisfaction as they got everyone out of the room within seconds. 

“What are you gonna do?” Thawne asked, looking up from his work on the forcefield generator with fear in his eyes.

Len squared his shoulders and focused on the cold that he could feel seeping below every inch of his skin.  “I’m gonna level the playing field.”

Then he closed his eyes, turned his focus inward to the cold at his center and his barely-suppressed fear, and let it go. 

The cold surged out of him in a wave that took Len’s breath away like a hit to the solar plexus.  Len had never attempted such a broad-scale application of his powers before.  Icing Lisa’s lab had been nothing compared to this massive space, and for a moment he felt lightheaded and dizzy with the effort. 

He forced his eyes open and saw that the air was full of minute ice crystals, drifting in the air like fog.  The floor, walls, and ceiling were all covered in a rime of frost.  The only things free of ice were the flickering blue surface of the forcefield and the two detectives who were shivering and gaping at Len from beside the forcefield generator. 

Len risked a glance at the man in yellow and saw, through the fog, that the cold was affecting him.  He’d dropped Dr. Wells, who was moving feebly, and had grabbed the tachyon prototype, clearly waiting for his opening.  “Take down the forcefield and get out of here,” Len said, throwing an ice bolt at the man in yellow through a gap in the flickering barrier.  The speedster managed to avoid it, but barely.  He was definitely slowing down.

Thawne whacked the forcefield generator with something metal, and Len smelled the sound of circuits frying before the field flickered and died completely.  “We’re not leaving you here!” he said, his teeth chattering together. 

“I said _go!_ ” Len shouted, firing another bolt of ice at the man in yellow.  It took more effort than he was expecting, and with a surge of nausea Len wondered if it was possible for him to run out of ice.  It had never happened before, but there was a first time for everything.  “The only way anyone is getting out of this building alive is if I hold him off!” 

Len turned his back on the detectives, and felt a grim sense of relief when he heard their footsteps running down the hallway.  He pushed it aside and focused on the room in front of him.  The fog of ice crystals had grown so thick that Len could barely see the glowing eyes of the man in yellow; he’d lost sight of Dr. Wells entirely, but there was nothing he could do to help him with a murderous speedster on the loose.  Hopefully the man in yellow had forgotten about killing the physicist in favor of targeting Len.  Otherwise, the doctor had no chance. 

Len aimed two more shots as best he could, spraying ice in a wide dispersal pattern to increase his odds at a hit.  The man in yellow grunted in pain, and Len felt a surge of satisfaction before he ran for the door.  If he could gain a more defensible position-

The world spun sickeningly, and Len gasped as he was slammed against a cold steel wall.  He blinked the dizziness away and saw the red eyes of the man in yellow boring into his own.  “You should have run with the others!” the speedster snarled, every trace of indifference gone from his voice as his hand closed around Len’s throat.  

“Fat chance,” Len croaked with the little air he had, his head spinning as he forced every bit of cold left in him into his fingertips.  The man in the yellow suit would kill him – but maybe, just maybe, Len could take him out in return.  

For a frozen second, Len saw Barry’s face, pleading with him to be careful, and wished that he was going to get the chance to apologize for not being careful enough. 

“Get your hands off him!” came a familiar voice from the end of the hall. 

The man in yellow’s eyes snapped away from Len just before the Flash slammed into him in a blur of red and gold, carrying him down the hallway and leaving Len to fall limply to the floor. 

For a moment, Len could only lay on the concrete, gasping for breath as the chill in his fingers receded.  Before the world had completely stopped spinning, he was heaving himself to his feet.  The Flash’s appearance had saved his life, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. 

His foot collided with something on the ground beside him, and Len paused to stare at it before bending to pick it up.  For a second, he stared uncomprehendingly at the thing, a clunky X-shaped piece of metal with a ring of coils at its center. 

Then he realized what he was holding, and his heart stopped in his chest.  It was the tachyon device from Mercury Labs.  The man in yellow had crashed into Len while still holding it; he must have dropped the device when the Flash had attacked him. 

Len gritted his teeth, then shoved the device under his arm and broke into a run.  As soon as the man in yellow realized he’d inadvertently left the tachyon device behind, he’d come looking for it in the last place he’d seen it – and Len had no doubt that he’d kill everyone in STAR Labs in order to get his hands on it.  Len’s only chance was to make it out of the building and stash the device somewhere safe, before the man in yellow was able to break away from the Flash. 

Len ran down the hallway toward the stairwell he’d taken into the basement, pausing only to yank the handles of every fire alarm he passed.  If nobody else had been able to call for backup, it would be the fastest way to get emergency services to their location.  Len had a feeling that Dr. Wells’ life wasn’t the only one that would be saved by swift medical intervention before the night was over. 

The building rumbled like a thunderstorm around Len as he ran, the echoes of the Flash and the man in yellow bouncing off the metal walls until they reached his ears.  Len hoped that his speedster would be able to hold his own.  The man in yellow had been iced and slowed down, but there was a viciousness in him that the Flash simply didn’t have. 

Besides, Len thought grimly as he fumbled for the door to the stairs, if the Flash died during this fight Len wouldn’t be able to grill him for information about the man in yellow. 

Len took the stairs two at a time, adjusting the tachyon prototype under his arm as he climbed, but paused when he emerged into a massive garage instead of the parking lot he’d been expecting.  He closed his eyes and mentally flicked through the building’s layout.  Dr. Wells had told him that the side entrance he’d taken into the building was next to the garage.  Len had taken the first flight of stairs he’d seen, but the staircase he’d been expecting had been further down the hall than the one that led to this hangar. 

It wasn’t the escape route Len had been planning, but it would have to do.  Len could see the night sky through the open door at the other end of the garage, and the vehicles would provide him with cover should the man in yellow appear. 

Len crouched beside a white van with the STAR Labs logo emblazoned on its side, assessing his options.  He couldn’t hear the speedsters fighting anymore, which meant the fight was over – unlikely – or they had moved away from him.  Neither option was appetizing.  When Len had been able to hear the dueling speedsters, he’d at least been aware of where they were; now he was running blind. 

The sound of sirens reached Len’s ears, making his decision for him.  He made a break for the end of the parking garage, listening hard as the sirens grew closer.  If the sirens were coming from his fellow officers at the the CCPD, Len would be needed to be there to cover the retreat; if it was the cavalry on their way, they’d need directions in order to find Dr. Wells.  Either way, he needed to be out there, not in here. 

Len peered around the hangar door and caught sight of West and Thawne, staring anxiously at the side of the building.  There were no other officers in sight; Len could only hope that the others had managed to get the scientists to safety.  “I’m here,” Len said, jogging across the parking lot toward his partners. 

“Snart!” Thawne said, his expression so relieved that Len almost felt guilty for making him worry.  “You made it out!” 

“Course I did,” Len replied, pressing the tachyon device into West’s arms before the other detective could say a word.  “That needs to get back to Mercury Labs,” he said, looking straight into West’s eyes.  “Get in a car and drive like a bat out of hell.  Use the sirens if you have to.  I don’t know how long we have before that monster gets away from the Flash-”

“Hold on,” West interrupted, his eyes widening.  “The Flash is here?” 

“Yep, and he needs backup.  So I’m staying,” Len said firmly.  “He can’t handle that thing on his own.” 

“I’m staying with you,” Thawne said.  Len looked at him sharply, and Thawne shook his head.  “Don’t give me that look, it won’t work.  I don’t leave people behind, and you can’t give me orders.  Joe,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where Detective West was standing with the prototype.  “Can you handle getting the tachyon device back to Mercury Labs on your own?” 

“Yeah,” West said, nodding sharply.  “But Eddie, you be careful, do you hear me?” he said.  “It’s too close to Christmas for Iris to lose you.” 

Eddie’s expression sobered, and he nodded.  “I’ll be careful.” 

As West and the tachyon device raced away from STAR Labs, Len turned to look up at the dark, mirrored walls of the laboratory.  “Have you seen either of the speedsters since you made it out of the building?” 

“A few times,” Thawne said, biting his lip as he followed Len’s gaze toward the darkened laboratory.  “At one point they were on the roof, but I haven’t seen them since Joe and I managed to get the scientists outside the fence.  Vulkovitch and Mullins are with them; Carmichael went for backup.” 

“Good,” Len said, starting for the entrance of the parking garage.  There was no point in chasing the speedsters around the facility; the best they could hope for was that the Flash would manage to corral the man in yellow to a place where they could help, and the parking garage would offer better cover than an open parking lot.  “Was anyone injured?” 

“A few sprained ankles, but everyone’s okay otherwise,” Thawne responded.  “Cold and shaken up, but okay.  That cold field you generated was really something,” he continued, a note of admiration in his voice.  “I didn’t know you could do that.” 

“Something I’ve been working on,” Len said, fidgeting a bit at the praise.  When he’d successfully captured the man in yellow, he’d be a lot more willing to take compliments.  “It came in handy tonight.” 

“I’ll say,” Thawne said, but luckily he seemed willing to leave it at that. 

Len ducked behind one of the vans parked nearest the entrance, Thawne following closely behind him.  The hangar doors limited his sightline, but they would also keep the man in yellow from immediately spotting him if he appeared on the scene.  Len peered around the back of the van, his eyes narrowed, counting the passing seconds as he waited. 

At one point, Len’s fingers brushed against the rough metal edge of the van’s license plate.  He turned to glance at it briefly, more to acknowledge the source of the stimuli than out of curiosity, but his mental count stuttered when he saw what was written on the license plate – 552 ELE.  It was the same van that had picked the Flash up in the back alley after the Bivolo incident.  And apparently it was a STAR Labs company car. 

Len shook his head and resumed his count at seventy-three seconds.  He’d have to wait until this was over to think about the mounting volume of evidence that connected the Flash to STAR Labs.  For now, they had a speedster to catch. 

After three and a half minutes of tense waiting, a flash of gold lightning caught Len’s eye.  “If the speedsters show up, stay on the perimeter and _don’t engage,_ ” he said to Thawne, meeting his eyes intently.  “My powers are the only reason I have any chance against the man in yellow.  Unless you get a clear shot, don’t interfere.” 

Thawne nodded.  “I’ll try to make the shot nonfatal, if I can.  I know you need him alive so he can testify,” he elaborated when Len raised his eyebrows.  “We can’t get Barry’s dad out of jail without him.” 

For a moment, Len was caught off-guard by Thawne’s casual acceptance; then he remembered that the detective hadn’t been surprised by Barry’s almost-breakdown at Mercury Labs, and his reaction made more sense.  “If it’s between your life and his, shoot to kill,” Len said.  “Nobody needs to die tonight.  If Barry were here, he’d be the first person to tell you that his father’s case isn’t more important than your own life.” 

Thawne nodded in response and Len turned away, satisfied.

He’d set the record straight in the nick of time, it seemed.  Just twenty-two seconds later, the Flash arrived on the scene, skidding to a stop before hiding behind the van parked nearest to Len’s hiding place.  “We have got to stop meeting like this,” the speedster whispered. 

“I’m game if you are, Scarlet,” Len replied, his relief allowing him to smile in spite of the severity of the situation.  The Flash didn’t seem too seriously injured in spite of who he’d been fighting, and that was better than Len had dared to hope for.  “Where is he?” 

“Don’t know,” the Flash said.  “You slowed him down – I was holding my own for the most part, but then he just vanished.  I think he’s back in the lab.” 

Len grimaced.  “The tachyon device.  He came here tonight to steal a tachyon prototype.  I bet he’s realized it’s missing.” 

“That’s not good,” the Flash said, biting his lip.  “Where is it now?” 

“I got it out of the building,” Len said.  “It’s in a squad car on its way from here, and the driver knows how to use back roads.” 

The Flash grinned.  “Nice thinking.” 

“I hate to break up the chitchat,” said Detective Thawne, peering around the side of the van with a genuinely apologetic expression on his face, “but we need to make a decision.  Are we going to try and catch this guy?” 

Len looked at the Flash, who had jumped a foot at Thawne’s sudden appearance but seemed to be settling down now.  “I don’t see that we have a choice,” the speedster said.  “If he’s after something specific, he won’t stop until he gets what he’s looking for.  We need to buy time for the CCPD to get the prototype away from him.  And don’t you dare try getting me to stay away,” the Flash said, suddenly shooting Len a glare.  “I’m a civilian, yeah, but I’m the only other person who stands a chance against this guy.” 

Len nodded.  He didn’t think he’d be able to convince the speedster to leave the fight, and he didn’t have the time to waste on making the attempt.  “I need to catch him alive, if possible,” Len said.  “He’s a murder suspect.” 

“Then it’s settled?” Thawne said.  “We’re going after him.” 

Len nodded, turning to listen to the sound of approaching sirens.  “We won’t have long,” he said.  “Emergency crews are nearly here.  I called them for Harrison Wells,” he said, watching the Flash’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.  Sure enough, there it was – a telltale flinch.  However the Flash knew Harrison Wells, he knew him well enough to care that he’d been hurt.  “He was beaten up when I lured the man in yellow away from him, but he’ll need medical attention.” 

“I bet he will,” the Flash said, shaking his head before returning his attention to Len.  “So.  You’re the tactics guy.  How are we gonna do this?” 

Len took a deep breath and focused on what he knew about the man in yellow.  “We’re making a new trap.  Flash, you’ll be the bait,” he said.  “Go into the building and get the man in yellow to follow you out of the building and into range so that I can shoot him.  But make sure you’re standing clear when I fire,” Len said.

The Flash tilted his head. “How come?  Your ice hurts like hell, but if you have to take the shot, you should take it.”

 _Self-sacrificing idiot._ “But if I ice you instead of him, you’ll go down and he won’t,” Len pointed out.  “And we won’t be any better off.”   

“Oh,” the Flash said.  “Right.  I’ll just – go find him for you.  Yeah.”

The speedster vanished in a gust of wind, leaving Len and Thawne alone behind the truck.  “Wow,” said Thawne, shaking his head slowly as a look of amazement spread across his features. 

Len suddenly felt self-conscious.  “What?” 

“That was incredible,” Thawne said.  “Look, I missed the whole Bivolo situation – I read the report, but I wasn’t there.  The last time I actually saw the Flash was at the gas station with Woodward, and he seemed like the kind of guy who did his own thing.  But you just outlined a plan, and the Flash is following it like it’s an order.” 

“I’m not holding anything over him, if that’s what you’re trying to say,” Len said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. 

“No, it’s not!” Thawne said, waving a hand as if to brush Len’s concerns away.  “I’m just saying that he _listened_ to you this time.  He must really like you.  That’s all.” 

Len opened his mouth and closed it again.  He… wasn’t sure what to say.  He was reasonably confident that he had the Flash’s trust, but the speedster liking him as a person was an altogether different matter.  The last time he’d seen the Flash, the speedster had told him that they couldn’t be friends – but tonight, the speedster had seemed _happy_ to see him.  And that was to say nothing of the fact that the Flash’s intervention had almost certainly saved Len’s life. 

Maybe something had changed, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on it.  They were at the end of the line, and if Len didn’t catch the man in yellow this time, the whole night would be a wash. 

Len edged around the back of the van and crouched, preparing himself for another wide-range shot.  He hadn’t used his ice in a while, so with any luck his blasts would have returned to their regular strength.  In his peripheral vision, he saw Thawne move to flank him, gun drawn.

A flash of light was the only warning Len had before the Flash streaked by him, with the man in yellow hot on his heels.  Len made his shot, but gritted his teeth when only the tail end of the blast clipped the pursuing speedster.  A hit like that wouldn’t be enough to slow him down – and he’d just given away his position. 

For the second time that night, Len was grabbed and bodily slammed against a hard metal surface.  “Where is the tachyon prototype?” the man in yellow growled, his red eyes boring directly into Len’s. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Len saw the Flash preparing for another rush.  “Not here,” he grunted, letting his hand “flop” limply onto the speedster’s arm.  Frost trickled from his fingertips and crawled up the man in yellow’s suit, sluggishly at first but then faster. 

When it reached the base of the speedster’s shoulder, the man in yellow made a noise of disgust and threw Len aside.  He hit the pavement hard, and looked up to see the Flash barreling directly toward him.  Len braced himself for impact, but the Flash somehow managed to avoid him, swerving around his prone form in a maneuver that robbed him of his momentum and threw him off-balance.

As the Flash struggled to regain his footing, the man in yellow grabbed his arm and yanked it from its socket with an audible crunch. 

The Flash yelled and dropped to one knee as pain overwhelmed his reflexes, and the man in yellow shoved him the rest of the way to the ground.  “You didn’t learn your lesson, Flash,” he growled.  “Where is the tachyon prototype?”

Len saw emergency vehicles emerging on the street behind them: a fire truck, two ambulances, and a small army of squad cars.  His mind raced.  Their plan hadn’t worked, and they were out of time.  One way or another, they had to get rid of the man in yellow before legions of first responders emerged from their vehicles and turned the scene into a bloodbath. 

Len forced more ice into the palm of his hand, his fingers trembling with the effort.  He’d definitely overexerted himself tonight, and he had a sinking suspicion that one ice bolt wouldn’t cut it this time.  “Thawne!” Len yelled, hoping that his partner had managed to get himself into position.  The man in yellow froze and half-turned, looking at Len with a barely-visible red eye.  “Take the shot!” 

The crack of a revolver split the night, and the man in yellow darted away from the Flash.  Len saw the pavement spark where the bullet collided with the asphalt, and gritted his teeth before taking his own shot. 

There was almost no power behind the bolt, and while he managed to graze the man in yellow, it wasn’t enough to make a difference.  The man in yellow took several steps toward Len, but paused when Thawne fired his gun again. 

Len fully expected the man in yellow to continue his slow advance, but to his surprise it seemed like the speedster’s momentum had run out.  He looked between Len and the Flash, who was struggling to rise, before looking over at the advancing army of emergency responder vehicles. 

“This isn’t over,” he growled, looking at Len and the Flash in turn.  “I’ll be back.” 

As the speedster vanished behind the building in a blur of scarlet lightning, Len felt a faint sense of regret that they hadn’t been able to capture him.  But the man in yellow wasn’t going to vanish for fourteen years this time.  He’d said as much – and Len would be looking for him too. 

Besides, they were all alive.  That in and of itself was something worth celebrating. 

As the paramedics approached, Len saw that the Flash had begun to curl in on himself, as if he were debating the merits of running away without treatment.  “Let me help you with that arm,” Len said, gesturing to the Flash’s shoulder.  “The paramedics have painkillers they can give you, but I’m guessing you don’t want to deal with a crowd of EMTs.” 

“Painkillers don’t work on me anyway,” the Flash said, scooting toward Len with his injured arm held stiffly by his side.  “I didn’t know you knew how to fix a dislocated shoulder.” 

“Most cops know basic first aid,” Len said dryly, trying not to think about the Flash handling broken ribs and dislocated shoulders without any painkillers at all.  “And I’ve had the basic Red Cross certification since I turned sixteen.”  He’d been patching up his own injuries long before he’d gotten formal training, but the Flash didn’t need to know about that. 

“I feel safer already,” the Flash quipped, laying down on his back and extending his injured arm at a ninety-degree angle from his body. 

Len felt a bit ill; most people didn’t know to abduct their arm without prompting from a first responder.  He suspected this wasn’t the first time the Flash had dealt with a dislocated shoulder.  “Hold still,” he said out of habit before taking the Flash’s hand in his own. 

Fixing a dislocated shoulder was a matter of patience, and it was extremely difficult to do without help.  Len was relieved that the Flash had been willing to accept assistance, even if it was from him and not an EMT.  Incorrectly fixing a dislocated shoulder could result in severe bleeding, additional damage to ligaments and tendons, and nerve damage, especially when it was done without assistance. 

Len pulled down on the arm, making sure to keep the applied pressure slow and steady.  He continued to apply force until he felt the joint slide back into its housing with a clunk. 

The Flash let out a sigh of relief and shoved himself up with his good arm.  “Thanks,” he said, rubbing his arm with a pained smile as he clambered to his feet.  “It feels better already.”   

Len’s arm extended without his permission, his hand closing around the bicep of the Flash’s uninjured arm.  “Just remember that it isn’t better, not yet.  You need to get off your feet.” 

“I’m not gonna swoon and fall over like a damsel in distress, I promise,” the Flash protested weakly.  “I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be fine in a couple of hours.”  

Len couldn’t decide which was stranger, the way his fingers had started tingling from holding the speedster’s arm or the fact that the Flash hadn’t yanked it out of his grip in the first place.  Fixing an injury was one thing, but casual contact was a different matter.  Maybe the Flash was more exhausted than he was letting on.  “Good,” he replied, dropping the speedster’s arm and taking a step back.  “My people need me, but after this is over I want to talk to you.” 

He expected the Flash to protest, or repeat the same arguments he’d used when he’d told Len that they couldn’t keep seeing each other, but to his surprise the speedster only nodded.  “I know.  I’ll call you – I still have your number,” he said with a barely-visible smile. 

“Of course,” Len said, belatedly realizing that the Flash had just made a joke.  “I need to know everything you know about the man in yellow,” he continued.  “It’s important.  I’m going to be asking you a lot of questions.  Some of them might be personal questions,” he said.  It seemed only fair that he warn the speedster now, instead of catching him by surprise later. 

“Okay,” the Flash replied immediately, startling Len yet again.  “I’ll – whatever I know, I’ll tell you.  As long as you don’t ask me how I know it.” 

“Deal,” Len said, extending a hand.  Letting the Flash keep a few secrets in exchange for more information on the man in yellow was a risk that Len was willing to take. 

The Flash returned his handshake solemnly before taking a few steps back.  “For the record, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said so quietly that Len almost didn’t hear him.  “The man in yellow could have killed you.” 

“I’m glad I’m okay too, kid,” Len said.  The Flash’s intervention had saved his life, of that he was absolutely certain, but he didn’t need to tell the speedster that, or that he’d been planning to take the man in yellow with him if it came down to it.  He liked the Flash, but the kind of chewing-out that would ensue if he revealed that information was something he reserved for his sister. 

Speaking of Lisa, Len saw her advancing across the parking lot with a stammering Detective Thawne in pursuit.  “Hello, Flash,” she said, giving him a brief look before fixing her eyes on Len.  “Brother dear,” she said, smiling dangerously.  “Eddie here tells me that you decided to take on our murdering metahuman by yourself while everyone else took cover.  Care to tell me what that was about?”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” the Flash said, taking several more steps back.  “I’ll talk to you later, Snart.” 

“Bye,” Len said, wishing somewhat forlornly that the Flash would scoop him up and carry him away from the impending conversation.  Lisa looked pissed, and Detective Thawne was beginning to look recovered enough that he just might start yelling along with her.  “Before you chop me up and leave me in the morgue, I’d like to point out that the man in yellow could have killed everyone in the building if I hadn’t taken steps to slow him down.” 

The anger slid off Lisa’s face, leaving her worry clearly visible, which was worse.  “I know,” she sighed.  “I’d kick your ass myself, but you look like a stiff wind could blow you over.” 

“He used his powers a lot during the fighting,” Thawne said, looking between Len and Lisa anxiously. 

“Thawne.”  Len clapped the other detective on the shoulder with one hand.  “I’ll be fine.  Once we give our report and hear from Detective West, I’m going home and sleeping for the next twelve hours.” 

“Good,” Thawne said, his eyes determined.  “And seriously, you can stop calling me by my last name any time you want.  We’ve faced down a murderous speed demon together – you’re allowed to call me Eddie.” 

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Len said, removing his hand from the detective’s shoulder with a tiny twitch of his lips.  He was used to maintaining a certain amount of professional distance with his fellow officers, and most of them were happy to do the same with him.  But there were people in Len’s life who thrived on camaraderie.  Barry came immediately to mind, but Thawne – or Eddie, he supposed, was another one. 

“Stop clowning around, you two,” Lisa said, giving Eddie a look.  “Lenny, give me your keys and get in a car.  You’re in no shape to be driving a motorcycle.”  She held out her hand expectantly. 

Len turned over the keys without a word of protest.  “Leave it in the garage at the station,” he said.  “I’ll pick it up tomorrow before we head to Barry’s.” 

“I’m sorry I missed the shot,” Eddie said quietly as they walked back toward the squad cars.  “You and the Flash could have been in serious trouble if the man in yellow hadn’t decided to cut his losses.”

Len shook his head as he slid into the backseat of one of the squad cars.  “The man in yellow was a shot in the dark, in more ways than one.  Hitting a speedster with a bullet was never going to be easy.  So stop worrying.”    

“I told you, we’re the same rank,” Eddie retorted, climbing into the other seat.  “You can’t give me orders,” he said with a smirk that dared Len to say something. 

Len refused to rise to the bait, but if he smiled during the drive back to the precinct, that was nobody’s business but his. 

The adrenaline crash hit him full-force on the way back to the station, and by the time they made it back to the precinct Len was having difficulty staying awake.  He touched base with Detective West, confirming that the prototype had made it back to Mercury Labs and was back under guard, made his report to Captain Singh, and stumbled back to the front door where Lisa was waiting, feeling like he’d had all the energy in his body wrung out of him like a giant sponge. 

Lisa deposited him at the front door of his apartment building with a hug and a firm order to get some sleep, and Len climbed the stairs to the third floor fully intending to do just that. 

But when he opened the front door, the sight that met his eyes drove every speck of drowsiness from his body. 

His apartment had been ransacked.  Furniture had been moved, books and papers were scattered everywhere, and the box of files related to Barry’s father’s case was gone. 

But worst of all, when Len turned his head and looked at the wall behind his bookshelf, there was a picture of Lisa pinned to the wall with Len’s gigantic chef’s knife. 

Underneath the photo, words had been cut into the wall that chilled Len to the bone. 

STOP OR SHE DIES. 

Len removed the knife from his sister’s photo, fighting to keep his hands from shaking.  After what had happened tonight, there was only one culprit that made sense, and the implications were more than Len wanted to think about.  The man in yellow knew that Len was investigating the murder of Barry’s mother.  He knew where Len lived.  And he knew that the best way to hurt Len was to threaten his sister. 

He couldn’t do this tonight.  Len pulled out his phone and called Mick, asking his best friend to come get him and not say a word about it to anyone.  He’d deal with the mess in his apartment in the morning, when it wasn’t dark and he’d had some sleep. 

He needed to plan.  He had to think of what to do next. 

With trembling fingers, Len sent a text to his sister.  _Did you make it home safe?_

 _Yep,_ Lisa replied almost immediately, and Len’s knees nearly gave out with relief.  _Get some sleep,_ came a second text. 

 _Will do,_ Len replied.  He _would_ get some sleep, once Mick came to get him. 

There was one last person Len needed to contact.  _Operation was a bust,_ he texted to Barry.  _Man in Yellow escaped, no casualties._

Barry’s reply came even faster than Lisa’s.  Len wondered how long the CSI had been sitting by the phone, waiting for news.  _Thanks for the update.  I’m really glad you’re okay._

 _Sorry I couldn’t catch him for you,_ Len replied.  _I wanted to end this._

_Me too.  But don’t worry about it.  Get some rest, Len. :)_

_I will.  Goodnight, Barry._

Len put his phone away and sank into his favorite armchair, staring around at the wreckage of his home and wondering what he was supposed to do now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> A PSA that all medical advice in this chapter came straight from the venerable pages of WikiHow. I am not a doctor, and if you or a loved one should ever find yourself with a dislocated shoulder, please seek medical help instead of trying to fix it yourselves. ;) 
> 
> I'd also like to give a shout-out to my beta, for editing this chapter in real-time and catching one very humorous mistake. At the beginning of the chapter, when Len is talking about his early experiences with his powers, I didn't specify the temperature of the water that Len was drinking. I was imagining him sipping hot beverages while he was recovering from his accident because he was freezing anything else; this was pointed out to me when my beta looked at me with a concerned expression and asked me how, exactly, Len didn't die of dehydration while he was adjusting to his powers. I went back and tweaked that paragraph, but I got a good laugh from that mistake and thought I'd share the story.


	25. Simple Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter! Before I dig into the author's notes too much, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I've been really busy with life transitions lately, mainly a new job I am very grateful for, but that's cut into my writing time more than I'd like. I'm figuring out how to balance my new schedule, but rereading your comments kept me feeling excited to write when I had the time! Now that classes have started (good luck to everyone who's in school right now, btw), I'm going to be trying to update on the weekends when possible. It's when I have the most time to write, and hopefully it's when people have the most time to read! If I finish an update during the week, I won't hold off on posting, though - I'll keep putting chapters out there as fast as I'm able to write them. 
> 
> All that being said, it is Sunday night where I am and I'm happy to be bringing y'all an update! I'm really, really happy with this chapter and how it turned out; it's definitely one of my favorites so far. 
> 
> Only one more chapter until the end of Part 1! I hope you enjoy the update! <3

After leaving Len in the capable and terrifying hands of his sister, Barry turned on his heel and darted back inside STAR Labs.  The emergency crews were on their way into the building, and once they reached the trap room, any chance he had to check on Dr. Wells would be gone. 

The news that the Opposite-Flash had attacked his mentor had chilled Barry to the bone.  He’d been so sure that the trap was safe.  Team Flash and Mercury Labs had taken every precaution.  They’d double-checked the trap, triple-checked the data, even tested the thing on Barry himself to make absolutely certain that it would hold a speedster, but in the end it had been for nothing.  The man in yellow had failed to steal the tachyon prototype, but that was only because Len had intervened. 

And because the trap had failed, Len had nearly been killed by the same person who’d murdered Barry’s mother.  Barry shuddered to think of what he’d have found if he’d been even a minute later – he’d have run into the lab only to trip over his friend’s corpse. 

But even Len’s intervention hadn’t been enough to save Dr. Wells. 

When Barry entered the trap room, he drew in a sharp breath at the lingering chill in the air.  The floor was covered in tiny puddles of melted ice, and there were still dripping icicles hanging from some of the elevated surfaces.  Len had managed it, then – he’d frozen the entire room to slow the enemy speedster down. 

Barry’s eyes slid to the dais, where a single figure was lying prone.  The bottom fell out of his stomach.  “Doctor Wells!” he said, rushing to his mentor’s side. 

Dr. Wells’ face was covered in bruises, there was a trickle of blood running from a cut on his temple, and his lips were blue.  For a terrifying moment, Barry thought his mentor was dead – but then Dr. Wells cracked one eye open and looked up at him.  “Flash,” he said with a smile that looked ghastly in his current condition.  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Doctor Wells, I’m so sorry,” Barry said, dropping to his knees on the dais.  “If I’d been here-”

“If you’d been here, the trap would have failed regardless,” his mentor rasped, attempting to lever himself up on one elbow.  “Stop fretting.  I’m fine – very cold, but there’s no damage that a warm blanket, a hot cup of tea, and some of Caitlin’s tender loving care can’t fix.” 

“You shouldn’t be in this position at all,” Barry said around the lump in his throat.  “If I had been faster-”

“Stop beating yourself up over things you can’t control,” Dr. Wells said firmly.  “Now, if my estimate is correct, a squadron of EMTs will come bursting in the door at any minute.  You need to make yourself scarce before they start asking you questions.  Are you hurt?” 

“Just some bruises,” Barry said.  “And a dislocated shoulder, but Len already fixed it.” 

Dr. Wells nodded slowly.  “Get Caitlin to take a look at you while I’m at the tender mercies of the first responders.  I’ll be up to the Cortex shortly.  It seems that Caitlin’s cover story as our personal physician is going to come in handy yet again, Mister Allen,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing note. 

Barry’s shoulders hunched slightly.  “Okay.  I’m really glad you’re alive,” he said, biting his lip. 

Dr. Wells’ answering smile was slightly softer this time.  “So am I, Barry.  Now go see Caitlin and Cisco.” 

Reluctantly, Barry left his mentor behind and ran up the back flight of stairs to the Cortex.  The EMTs would almost certainly be taking the elevator, and the last thing Barry needed was to run into a squad of first responders while he was in uniform. 

When he stepped into the Cortex, Barry swallowed at the sight of Cisco hunched over the computer console.  “Cisco, buddy,” he said, approaching the engineer cautiously.  “Are you okay?” 

Cisco turned around slowly, and Barry’s heart ached when he saw that his friend’s eyes were filled with tears.  “Barry, I am so sorry.” 

“What – no, Cisco!”  Barry crossed to his friend and pulled Cisco into a hug.  “You can’t blame yourself for this.” 

“Who else am I supposed to blame?” Cisco said weakly.  “I designed the trap.  I built it.  I oversaw the testing, I was the one monitoring the controls when things started to go wrong.  It’s my fault that the Opposite-Flash got away.  You, Dr. Wells, all the cops and scientists in the room – all of you could have died.”

“But nobody died, Cisco.  We’re all here, and Dr. Wells is going to be fine,” Barry said, rubbing his hand in circles on Cisco’s back. 

Cisco sniffled, then took a deep, shuddering breath.  “I thought you were gonna be mad at me,” he said shakily, leaning back to look at Barry.  “This was our chance to catch your mom’s killer, and I lost him.” 

Barry shook his head.  “It doesn’t make any sense for me to be mad at you, Cisco.  It wasn’t just you working on the trap – you, me, Dr. Wells, even the researchers from Mercury Labs, all of us thought the trap was going to work.”    

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” Caitlin said, emerging from one of the back offices wearing a white lab coat and an exhausted smile.  Her eyes were red from crying, and Barry guessed that she must have retreated for a few minutes of privacy.  “But you know how it is,” Caitlin continued.  “I’m not even an engineer, and I still feel like I should have noticed that something was wrong.  Get on the table, by the way,” she said, shooting Barry a stern look.  “Doctor Wells called over the intercom.  He told me to check out your shoulder before I went down to the trap room.” 

Barry changed out of his suit and into a pair of STAR Labs sweats before climbing obediently onto the examination table.   He couldn’t help thinking that Caitlin’s attention would be way more helpful to their mentor than it would be to him, since Dr. Wells looked like he’d crawled out of a morgue – but he wasn’t going to say as much in front of Cisco.  The engineer had stopped crying and was breathing more normally, but still looked like he wanted to crawl away and hide. 

Caitlin’s examination didn’t take long.  “Detective Snart did a good job on your shoulder,” she said, giving Barry a nod to signal the end of her poking and prodding.  “I’d recommend putting some ice on it to help with the swelling, but it should sort itself out within an hour or two as long as you don’t use it.” 

“Good,” Barry said, relieved that the injury was relatively inconsequential.  He’d fared far worse the last time he’d gone toe-to-toe with the man in yellow – and he would probably have been in much worse shape this time, if he hadn’t had Len’s help.  “Are you gonna go look Doctor Wells over now?” 

Caitlin nodded.  “At this rate I should actually go back to school and get my M.D.,” she said with a faint smile.

Barry’s lips twitched.  “The world of medicine would be lucky to have you.” 

When Caitlin left the Cortex, Barry grabbed a cold pack from the sample freezer and slapped it on his shoulder before wheeling a swivel chair over to Cisco’s workstation.  “Can you fill me in on what happened with the trap?” he asked, hoping that giving Cisco a task to puzzle over would make him feel better.  “I haven’t seen any of the readings – I was sitting with Iris waiting for news when I got Caitlin’s S.O.S. and came straight here.” 

“That’s the thing,” Cisco said, biting his lip as he pulled up new windows on the monitors.  “I’m not sure _what_ happened.  When Dr. Wells was talking to the Opposite-Flash, the trap started giving me some really bizarre feedback.  The computer said that the trap’s containment field was fluctuating, but when I dug into the power consumption records, there was no reason that anything should have gone wrong.  The energy input and output never changed, and there weren’t any weird shifts in the readings until the containment field flickered off for the second that it took for the Opposite-Flash to grab Dr. Wells.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “That’s really weird,” he said slowly, leaning closer to the screen so he could examine the readouts.  “So the trap should have been working until poof, it suddenly wasn’t?” 

“According to one set of readouts, everything was fine,” Cisco said, his brows drawing together.  “But according to the other set, the trap’s energy signature was all over the place, and obviously the trap _wasn’t_ fine or it wouldn’t have cut out like that.” 

Barry shook his head slowly.  Engineering wasn’t his specialty, but he’d spent enough of his time at STAR Labs looking at graphs and energy readouts to know that something was up – he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.  “Do you have any footage from the cameras?” 

“Not enough,” Cisco said, scowling as he pulled up a new window for the video feed.  “Whatever happened to the trap also knocked out the video feed.  Once the containment field failed, all we got was static.” 

Barry could vividly imagine the panic that had engulfed the Cortex when the video feed had cut out – Cisco and Caitlin must have been terrified.  Shaking himself out of that headspace, Barry reached over Cisco and pressed the button to rewind the video footage to the beginning. 

He and Cisco watched in silence as the researchers from Mercury Labs swarmed over the trap, performing their last-minute checks.  Barry’s stomach lurched when he saw Len come into the room, accompanied by Dr. McGee; the two of them talked in front of the trap for several minutes, but the audio wasn’t good enough for Barry to make out what they were saying over the background noise of the scientists. 

They saw Dr. Wells appear at the door, and watched as Len, Dr. McGee, and the other researchers filed out.  Then, the lights in the room went out.  “That was when I activated the trap,” Cisco said. 

Barry nodded, leaning forward until his nose was almost touching the screen.  There was a weird, fuzzy patch of pixels in one corner, but it could have been some sort of video artifact, or even a trick of the light.  But then there was a flash of light, and Barry’s eyes widened when he saw the man in yellow materialize inside the trap, hammering on the walls of the forcefield.  “Is this what you saw while you and Caitlin were watching?” he said, his mouth dry. 

“Yep,” Cisco said, reaching for a bag of Twizzlers on the corner of the desk and gnawing on a candy rope nervously.  “And Dr. Wells is gonna signal for me to turn the lights back on in three, two – boom.” 

The lights came back on, and the researchers trickled back into the room in ones and twos, with Dr. Wells and Len leading the pack.  The man in yellow had stopped banging on the forcefield and was watching the group of people in front of him calmly. 

“Already hard at work, I see?” said the real Dr. Wells, wheeling through the door of the lab with Caitlin right behind him. 

“Doctor Wells!” Cisco said, slamming the pause button on the monitor before shooting to his feet.  “You look-”

“Like I was dragged facefirst across a parking lot?” Dr. Wells said lightly, and Cisco blanched.  “That was a joke, Cisco.  Really, I feel much better already.  The EMTs assured me that the damage was mostly superficial – with a few days’ rest and some TLC, I’ll be good as new.  So don’t apologize,” he said, heading Cisco off at the pass with a wave of his hand.  “You did nothing wrong.” 

Caitlin’s brows were furrowed with worry as she helped Dr. Wells up onto the gurney, but she didn’t contradict the EMTs’ assessment of his condition.  Barry breathed out a sigh of relief as the news of his mentor’s recovery lifted a weight from his shoulders.  “We were in the middle of going over the security camera footage,” Barry told Dr. Wells.  “Do you want us to wait until you can come watch with us?  You might notice something we don’t.” 

“For the time being, I’m content to remain where I am,” Dr. Wells said with a wry smile.  “As long as you turn the volume up, I think I’ll be able to follow along.” 

Cisco nodded and cranked the volume up to its maximum setting before pushing the button to continue playing the footage.  “We stopped right when everybody was coming back into the room to see the Opposite-Flash,” he said to Dr. Wells. 

Barry looked down at the screen and saw Len stepping forward to stand level with Dr. Wells.  His insides twisted when he heard Len ask the man in yellow about murdering his mom – knowing how the scene in front of him was going to go down somehow made him feel even more touched by Len interrogating his childhood nightmare than he would have felt regardless. 

But the Opposite-Flash ignored Len altogether, focusing in on Dr. Wells with laserlike precision.  “Doctor Wells,” he said, his warped, guttural voice made slightly tinny by the speakers but still terrifying nonetheless.  “We meet at last.” 

“Yikes,” Cisco said, biting off a piece of Twizzler with a grimace.  “Somebody needs to get this guy some throat lozenges, stat.” 

The joke was so unexpected that Barry’s laugh caught him by surprise.  “Next time I see him, I’ll make sure I let him know,” he said, unable to entirely suppress an entirely-inappropriate twitch of his lips.  Making light of his childhood nightmare felt dangerous to the point of being taboo, but maybe that was why, in a weird way, it seemed to be helping. 

He refocused his attention on the screen just as Dr. Wells was coming to the end of a rather lengthy monologue about how he’d designed the trap, and how he’d known what would be needed to contain a speedster.  “The  _reason_  I know all this,” their mentor was saying, “is because your powers are  _almost exactly_  like those of the Flash.” 

“Oh, I’m not like the Flash at all,” the man in yellow said.  “Some would say I’m the reverse.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose at the odd and ominous phrasing, but before he could comment on it the screen became a solid whiteout of static. 

“That’s when we lost the feed,” Cisco said somewhat unnecessarily.  “We had no idea what was happening down there.  It’s a good thing they were able to get you out of the trap without us,” he said, looking down at the desk. 

“Cisco,” said Dr. Wells with a hint of reproach in his voice.  “I told you, you did nothing wrong.  You had no way of knowing that I was in danger – based on the evidence you had available to you, there was no reason for you to think that turning off the power to the trap would result in anything other than the loss of the man in yellow and the theft of the tachyon prototype.” 

“Not to mention the Opposite-Flash would probably have killed everyone in the room,” Barry added, blanching at the thought of a murderous speedster loose in such a crowded space.  The scene at STAR Labs could have turned into a bloodbath – they’d been incredibly lucky to avoid any deaths. 

Cisco tapped the end of his Twizzler against his lips.  “About that.  Did you guys hear what the man in yellow said in the trap room?  He said he was the _reverse_ of the Flash, not the opposite.  What if we called him the Reverse-Flash?”

“It did sort of sound like he was angling for the name,” Barry admitted.  “But isn’t Reverse-Flash kind of a weird name?  It makes it seem like he spends all his time running around backwards.” 

Caitlin covered her mouth to hide a tiny snort, but Dr. Wells tilted his head thoughtfully.  “I like Reverse-Flash,” he said.  “Opposite-Flash gets the point across, but it lacks a certain… _panache_.” 

Privately, Barry reflected that a name like the Reverse-Flash was also a good and ominous reminder of what the man in the yellow suit meant to him personally.  The Reverse-Flash wasn’t just Barry’s opposite; by showing up and threatening Barry’s newfound sense of security, he was also threatening to reverse all the positive changes that had happened in Barry’s life since he’d gotten his powers.  “I guess I can get behind the name,” Barry said, nodding. 

“Awesome.”  Cisco rubbed his hands together.  “Alright, let’s take a vote.  All in favor of renaming the man in yellow the Reverse-Flash?” 

All the hands in the Cortex rose. 

“And that settles it.  Motion passed,” Cisco said, looking pleased with the turn of events. 

A short silence fell before Caitlin spoke up.  “You do realize what this means, right?” she said.  “We may not have succeeded tonight, but neither did the Reverse-Flash.  He didn’t get the tachyon prototype he wanted, did he?” she continued, looking to Barry for confirmation. 

Barry shook his head.  “Len managed to get it out of the building, and then Joe drove it back to Mercury Labs while the Reverse-Flash was distracted fighting me.  It’s probably back in the vault now, safe and sound.” 

“See?” Caitlin urged.  “When you think about it, that _is_ a victory.  We’ve been treating the Reverse-Flash like this mythical… _boogeyman,_ but tonight is proof that he doesn’t always get his way.” 

“That’s true,” Cisco said.  “We foiled him this time.  And if we can _keep_ foiling him, he’ll eventually make a mistake – and then boom!”  Cisco slammed the palm of his hand down on the desk.  “We nab him!  The Reverse-Flash goes to jail, Barry’s dad gets out of prison, and we all live happily ever after.” 

“If only happy endings were that simple,” said Dr. Wells with a twist of his lips.  “But you’re quite right that we’ll need to persevere.  The Reverse-Flash made it very clear that he will return – and when he does, we need to be prepared to meet him.” 

“I’m going to have to get faster, aren’t I?” Barry said, his stomach sinking.  He’d been able to hold his own against the Reverse-Flash tonight, but that had only been because Len had been helping him.  On his own, he wouldn’t have stood a chance against the man in yellow’s superior speed. 

“In time, undoubtedly,” Dr. Wells said, nodding.  “The good detective won’t always be around to help us out of a bind.  But I know you can do it,” he said, smiling at Barry.  “You’re capable of more than you realize – and you’ll have our support, of course.” 

“Thanks, guys,” Barry said, feeling the knot in his chest loosen slightly.  “I couldn’t do all of this without you.” 

“And you’ll never have to,” said Dr. Wells.  “Now – Caitlin, if you wouldn’t mind, I have had a _very_ trying evening and would like to go home.  Can you call my driver and tell him to be outside STAR Labs in half an hour?” 

“Of course,” Caitlin said.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?  Your injuries aren’t terrible considering the circumstances, but I’d be happy to come by if you think you’ll need the help.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Caitlin, but I can assure you I’ll be fine on my own,” said Dr. Wells with a tiny smile.  “I think a soft bed and some peace and quiet will do me a world of good.” 

By the time he and Caitlin got back to Caitlin’s apartment, Barry was crashing hard – a mercy, considering he’d been worried that he would be too wound-up and anxious to sleep.  He had a busy day ahead of him tomorrow, and now that the imminent crisis seemed to be over he was finally able to start thinking about the future.  Clarissa would worry if he fell asleep while helping her prepare the party food. 

Barry was almost done brushing his teeth when he heard his phone go off, vibrating with the generic alert noise he used for people at work.  He dropped his toothbrush and zipped to the phone, snatching it up – what if something had gone wrong while Joe was getting the tachyon device back to Mercury Labs?  What if the Reverse-Flash had tracked him down and decided to get revenge? 

But when Barry looked at the lockscreen, he saw that it was a message from Len.  He entered his passcode with shaking hands and saw that it was the status update Barry had asked for.  _Operation was a bust.  Man in Yellow escaped, no casualties._

Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  He’d have to ask Len about the tachyon prototype tomorrow, since there was no way that Barry Allen, CSI, should have known about the plan Len and Joe had concocted to get the device back to Mercury Labs, but having his own casualty count confirmed by the detective was a relief.  Nobody had died.  Len had come close – close enough that it made Barry feel nauseous to think about – but even he was still alright at the end of this long and scary day.   

 _Thanks for the update.  I’m really glad you’re okay,_ Barry fired back. 

 _Sorry I couldn’t catch him for you,_ Len sent a minute later, and Barry felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.  _I wanted to end this._

In his determination to catch the man in yellow, Len had nearly succeeded in ending his own life instead of Barry’s monster hunt.  Barry wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forget the horrible, frozen moment when he’d stepped into the basement hallway and seen Len pinned to the wall, gripped tightly in the same hands that had killed his mother. 

He couldn’t let history repeat itself.  Leonard Snart had to be kept safe.  If Barry couldn’t do it as a CSI, he was going to have to do it as the Flash. 

 _Me too,_ he texted back.  _But don’t worry about it.  Get some rest, Len._

After a moment’s nail-biting deliberation, Barry added a smiley-face emoticon to his text and sent it.  He could have used the little emoji bubbles, but he felt like Len would enjoy an old-fashioned smiley face more than the generic yellow clipart. 

Barry bit his lip for a second, staring at Len’s contact banner at the top of the screen, before giving in and clicking on it.  Before he could read too much into his own actions, he went into the editing menu and switched Len’s text alert sound from the one he used for coworkers to the one he reserved for close friends and family, a single loud bell-tone that, for whatever reason, always made Barry snap to attention no matter what he was doing.  Sometimes he missed the more generic alerts from his phone, especially when he was in the middle of something that demanded his full focus, but whether it was habit, unconscious association, or the sound of the alert itself, Barry always noticed it.  He reserved it for contacts whose texts he couldn’t afford to miss – Iris, Martin, Clarissa, Cisco, Caitlin, and now Len. 

Barry dropped his phone on the sofa and finished getting ready for bed, rinsing his toothbrush and putting it back in the holder before changing into his pajamas.  Caitlin kept her apartment a little colder than he liked, so it paid to sleep with some clothes on, especially since this wasn’t his house. 

The chime of his text alert made Barry snap his head up, and he dove for the phone, opening it to read Len’s message.  _I will.  Goodnight, Barry._

Barry forced himself to put his phone down before he said something mushy and stupid in reply, dragging his hands across his face instead. 

He’d faced down a murderous speedster, dealt with an injured mentor, and nearly watched a friend get murdered in front of him, and now he was getting butterflies in his stomach because his crush had texted him back?  Stupid.  

* * *

After somehow managing to get eight hours of sleep, Barry quietly got dressed and went through his morning routine before grabbing two of Cisco’s energy bars from the pantry.  He left a note on the kitchen counter for Caitlin explaining where he went and promising to text her when she woke up before heading for the door himself. 

It was the day of the holiday party, and he had a busy schedule.  But there was one place he had to go before he went to Clarissa’s. 

Barry tore open the wrapper on one of the energy bars and choked it down, hoping that the bland meal would help settle his stomach.  It wasn’t that he didn’t _enjoy_ visiting his dad, or at least as much as one could enjoy visiting a parent who had been wrongfully imprisoned for a murder that he didn’t commit.  But his visits were usually just that _– visits,_ where they chatted about what had been going on in Barry’s life and other trivialities, like what his dad’s latest cellmate had gotten in trouble for last week. 

The last time Barry had brought his dad important news, they’d both ended up crying on either side of the glass as Barry related the story of his accident, his coma, and his newfound superpowers.  Barry had felt guilty about it ever since, even though he knew that there was nothing he could have done to predict something as random as a lightning strike.  He’d already put his dad through hell once this year – Barry didn’t want to add to his burdens again, especially not this close to Christmas. 

But his dad would want to know what Barry had found out, and he’d always been good at telling when Barry was upset.  _Not_ visiting was just not an option – after the three years he’d spent in the foster care system, years that he and his dad would never get back, Barry had sworn that nothing would keep him away again.  He’d even found a way to convince the visitation managers at Iron Heights to allow him phone calls with his dad every other week when he’d been living in Starling City. 

His duties as the Flash had kept him busier than he’d ever been, but he wasn’t going to skip out on a visit with his dad right before Christmas, no matter how much he hated the conversation they were going to need to have. 

Besides, he owed his dad an apology for letting his mother’s killer slip through his fingers. 

Barry timed his arrival so that he’d make it to the gates at ten o’ clock sharp – the earliest hour they’d allow visitors.  He didn’t want to risk cutting into the prep time for the holiday gathering, but that didn’t mean he was willing to cut his dad’s visit short. 

He had no problems getting through security, and within twenty minutes of arriving at the prison, his dad was sitting down in his chair on the opposite side of the glass.  Barry lifted the phone, expecting to feel the usual dull pain that seeing his father wrongfully imprisoned always left him with, but having seen the real culprit last night made everything sting all the worse.  “Hey, Dad,” he said, forcing himself to smile. 

“Barry.  Good to see you, son,” his dad said, smiling briefly before his expression turned into one of concern.  “What’s wrong?” 

Barry’s shoulders slumped.  So much for trying to put up a front – two words out of his mouth and his dad had seen right through him.  There was no point in beating around the bush, then.  “I had him, Dad,” Barry said, running a hand through his hair.  “I had the man who killed mom.” 

His dad’s eyes widened.  “Whoa, slugger, back up.  The man in the yellow suit, he’s back in town?” 

Barry nodded.  “Yeah – He’s been here for a few days, maybe longer,” he sighed.  “He killed some employees over at Mercury Labs, and he showed up at the CCPD to taunt me.  We tried to set a trap for him at STAR Labs, but something went wrong, and I wasn’t able to catch him before he got away.” 

His dad’s forehead wrinkled in concern.  “Did he hurt you?” 

“I got a little beat-up, but I’m already fine – you know I heal fast,” Barry said, lowering his voice just in case somebody around him happened to be listening.  He knew anyone could screen these calls, but he’d managed to filter out the worst of his paranoia about Iron Heights over the years, and his dad being a model inmate helped matters.  “And nobody else died at STAR Labs, either,” he added.  “We managed to get everyone out – Doctor Wells was hurt, but he’ll be fine in a few days.  But Dad, I didn’t catch him and I am _so sorry.”_  

His dad gave him a sad, worried smile.  “Barry, I’m afraid I don’t understand why you’re apologizing.” 

“Because he should be in here and not you!”  Barry almost slammed his hand against the ledge in front of him, but he slowed his movement until his fist just tapped against the surface of the counter.  “I could have ended this last night – cleared your name and gotten you out of here.  But I failed,” he said, forcing himself to meet his father’s dismayed expression.  “Every day until now, you’ve been in there because of him.  But now you’re in there because of me.” 

“Barry,” his dad said gently.  “You’re being too hard on yourself.  I know you and your friends did everything you could, but you’re more important to me than anything.  Your mother wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over this, and neither do I.” 

“I know,” Barry sighed, running a hand through his hair again.  “It’s just – Clarissa’s holiday party is tonight, and everyone’s going to be there.  It’s bad enough that Martin won’t be there this year,” he said, forcing himself to look up.  “I wish you could have at least been able to come.” 

It was an impossible fantasy, and they both knew it – even if Barry had been able to capture the Reverse-Flash, the process of proving his dad’s innocence and preparing him for release would have taken longer than a day.  But his dad didn’t call him on it; he just smiled.  “Keep your chin up, slugger,” he said.  “You never know what could happen.  It’s hard, but try to stay positive.” 

“I know,” Barry said, smiling faintly.  “It’s just been a crazy year.  I don’t want to do this without you.”

“And you won’t have to,” his dad said, looking determined.  “You aren’t going to lose me, son.  Now, I want to hear about what else is going on in your life – but before we move on, I want you to promise me something.” 

Barry nodded.  “Of course.” 

“I know I can’t stop you from chasing the man in the yellow suit,” Barry’s dad said with a sigh, “and I’m not going to try.  But as your father, I’m urging you not to lose sight of the life you have.  Don’t let the quest to clear my name turn you into someone you’re not.” 

Barry swallowed, thinking about how he’d already gone against his gut instinct by agreeing to set a trap for the Reverse-Flash in the first place.  He knew his dad was right – but he couldn’t help remembering Dr. Wells’ ice-blue eyes, and the way Barry had bristled when his mentor had implied that he wasn’t willing to do whatever it took to set his father free.  “I won’t,” he said, wondering, in some ways, if he already had. 

They eventually moved onto lighter topics, like the guest list for Clarissa’s party.  “It sounds like you managed to put a pretty good crowd together,” his dad said once Barry had finished giving him the names of the people who’d be attending.  “Are you worried about mixing friend groups?” he said, giving Barry a significant look. 

“Cisco and Caitlin know to be careful,” Barry said.  “I don’t think my coworkers at the CCPD are going to ask too many questions, and the one I’m most worried about has already met Cisco – I think he bumped into Caitlin at the hospital, but I’m not sure.  Either way, Len doesn’t know where they work, so as long as they don’t slip up and say anything about STAR Labs it should be okay.” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard you mention a _Len_ before,” Barry’s father said, looking interested.  “Is he a coworker?” 

At this point, Len was more than just a coworker.  But Barry wasn’t sure how to explain his feelings about Len to his dad, especially with how complicated his double life had made their relationship.  “Len is – something,” he said lamely.  “A friend.  He’s a detective at the CCPD – he and Joe work together sometimes.  He’s been helping me with your case.” 

His dad’s eyebrows rose.  “I didn’t think anyone at the CCPD would be willing to help you go over those old files.” 

“It’s more than that, Dad,” Barry explained.  “I told him the story of what really happened that night, and he believed me.”  He swallowed at the memory of how _good_ it had felt, to sit with Len and tell him the story of the night his mother had died and have someone actually believe him.  “He was at STAR Labs last night, too, trying to help catch the man in yellow.” 

“Barry, that’s wonderful news,” his dad said, smiling.  “I’m glad he’s helping you, but more than anything I’m glad to hear that you have someone who’s on your side.” 

They wrapped up the visit shortly after that, with Barry promising to come visit again soon.  He wanted to tell his dad more about Len and Lisa, and how his dad’s work in the peds ward had helped them both – it was just the sort of morale-booster that would have seen his dad through the holidays, and knowing that he mattered to people outside the walls was a gift that kept on giving.  But without Len and Lisa’s permission, Barry didn’t feel right sharing the story.  It was extremely personal to them, and Barry had witnessed firsthand how awkward Len had felt sharing it with him.  Maybe both of them would prefer to help his dad from the sidelines, without making their reasons known.  Barry resolved to find a good time to ask them – not during the holiday party, but later, once the dust from the celebration and the botched attempt to trap the Reverse-Flash had settled. 

Now that he’d stopped to think about it more, Barry wasn’t surprised that his dad had quickly absolved him of all blame for what had happened with the trap.  From his dad’s point of view, nothing that had happened had been Barry’s fault.  But Barry _knew_ he had made a mistake in acting hastily to trap the Reverse-Flash, no matter what his friends and family said or how much blame they heaped on themselves.  The decision to go forward with the trap, even though his gut had told him not to, was his, and that made him accountable. 

Even though it would have sucked to hear someone actually say so out loud, there was a part of Barry that wished somebody would tell him that his own stupidity had played a role.  It might have helped to shake loose some of the cognitive dissonance he was feeling.  If someone tried to blame him for the trap’s failure, he’d either have to fully accept responsibility and apologize, or deny that what had happened with the trap had been his fault. 

Maybe, if he got the opportunity to argue his case one way or another, he’d be able to actually convince himself of something. 

* * *

Len, Mick, and Lisa arrived at the party precisely twenty-five minutes later than the official start time that Barry had texted him.  Arriving half an hour after the start time of a house party was supposed to be good manners; it was early enough that nobody would worry he’d gotten lost, but late enough that the hostess didn’t feel pressured to have a meal on the table as soon as everyone arrived.  Len was a bit dubious about the merit of the advice, since in his book it was always better to be punctual, but the last thing he wanted to do was make a bad impression on Barry’s foster mother.  

Lisa had given Len a pitying look when she’d caught him poring over advice columns on proper house party etiquette, so it was possible that Len was overthinking things.  Either way, he’d brought over a sweet potato casserole for dessert, which would hopefully be enough to smooth things over if he’d made a blunder. 

“You’re nervous, buddy,” said Mick from the driver’s seat of his red Impala.  Len had insisted that all three of them take Mick’s car, instead of riding their motorcycles; no need to clutter up the parking in front of their hosts’ house with three separate vehicles, or risk giving Barry’s foster mother the impression that they were a trio of lawless punks.  “Haven’t seen you this worked up about a shindig since your sis graduated from college.” 

“He wants to make a good impression on Barry’s family,” Lisa said from the backseat.  “It would be adorable if it weren’t so unnecessary.  His foster mom’s gonna love you.” 

“A guy?” said Mick, a gleam appearing in his eyes.  This did not bode well for Len’s sanity.  “You never mentioned there was a guy involved.” 

“Yes I did,” Len said.  “He’s the one who invited us, remember?” 

“But you didn’t mention you were _interested,_ ” Mick admonished.  “You’re supposed to share that stuff, buddy.” 

Because Len was an adult, he resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands.  “Why did I think it was a good idea to bring you both again?”

“Because you love us,” Lisa said, shooting Len a look as she applied a layer of lipstick.  “And because it was Barry’s idea and you weren’t going to tell him no.” 

Mick looked positively gleeful.  “Oh, you’ve got it bad, Snart.” 

There was no point in arguing, so Len shook his head and got out of the car.  “Let’s go.” 

He pretended not to hear Mick and Lisa snickering behind him as he marched toward the front door with his sweet potato casserole. 

Len maneuvered the casserole dish in his hands until he was able to ring the doorbell with the side of one hand.  After a minute of waiting, the door swung open to reveal a woman with wavy, pale-blonde hair and sharp but kind eyes.  “You must be Leonard,” she said with a smile.  “I’m Clarissa, Barry’s foster mom.  Are Lisa and Mick here with you?” 

“They’re handling the car,” Len said.  “But I wanted to bring this inside,” he continued, raising the casserole dish slightly. 

Clarissa smiled.  “Oh, that’s sweet of you,” she said, opening the door wider.  “You really didn’t have to, but I’m sure everyone will enjoy it.  You can put it in the kitchen with the other desserts.” 

Len looked over his shoulder and saw that Mick and Lisa were on their way up to the steps before following Clarissa into the house. 

The inside of the house was just as lovely as the outside.  The living area had an open floor plan, with rooms off to the side that looked like the kitchen and dining area.  Len noted the hardwood floors, the crown molding, and the elegant furniture with a hint of wistfulness.  He’d always liked the flexibility of apartment life; he could move if he wanted to, and there were fewer maintenance issues associated with an apartment than with a house.  But there was a part of him that liked the idea of permanence, of putting down roots and calling one place home.  He’d never done it before, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see the appeal.      

Len also noticed that most of the other guests had already arrived, and sighed inwardly.  “Are we late?” 

“You’re actually just in time,” said Clarissa, taking the casserole dish from his hands with a smile.  She placed it on the counter beside the stove, managing to squeeze it in between a sliced turkey and what looked like a green bean salad.  “Barry’s around here somewhere.  He’s been helping me with the cooking,” she explained, sending Len another smile.  “I’ll let him know you’re here.” 

Len nodded his acceptance, and was guiltily relieved when Clarissa left him alone in the kitchen. 

It wasn’t that Len saw himself as an awkward person.  He knew that he was good at making first impressions, and that people usually liked him.  But there was a difference between a holiday gathering with the family and chatting with Mick’s firefighting buddies over a couple of beers.

He didn’t care about impressing Mick’s firefighting buddies, for starters. 

“Fashionably late, I see,” said a familiar voice behind him.  Len turned and saw Barry standing in the doorway, smiling.  He was wearing a pale green button-down that Len had seen around the office before, along with a pair of khakis.  It was always a good look on him, but there was something about seeing Barry in his own home, instead of the station, that made the breath catch in Len’s throat.  “Are Lisa and Mick with you?” 

“They are, but I ran ahead with the food,” Len said, gesturing to the casserole dish sitting on the counter.  “It’s just a little something.  Doesn’t look like Clarissa needed the help, though.  This is quite a spread.” 

“This isn’t even all of the food,” Barry said, moving to stand beside Len.  “The latkes have to be made fresh – if they sit too long, the edges get soggy.  I helped Clarissa speed through the prep work, but we’re going to cook them after we all eat dinner.”  The CSI eyed Len’s casserole with curiosity.  “Did you actually make that yourself?” 

Len’s lips twitched.  “You sound surprised,” he said, feeling the last of his tension dissipate as he relaxed into the usual rhythm of their banter.  “Are you doubting my cooking skills?”

Barry’s face flushed bright red.  “No!  I’m not doubting you at all!  Cisco brought something too, but it’s from the store.  I’m not suggesting that I don’t think you can cook, I swear.” 

“I’m glad,” Len said, resisting the urge to chuckle.  “It’s a sweet potato casserole with a coconut-pecan topping.  Not traditional holiday food, but it’s a favorite of Lisa’s and mine.” 

“I’m just impressed you managed to turn sweet potatoes into a dessert,” Barry said.  “If I weren’t minding my manners, I’d cut myself a slice.” 

If Len wasn’t determined to make a good impression on Clarissa, he’d take a fork and scoop a piece out for Barry right now.  “Soon,” he said, his lips twitching.  He’d brought the dessert in order to be polite, but it was Barry’s opinion he really wanted. 

Barry nodded but didn’t say anything, and Len glanced sideways at the CSI.  He frowned at what he saw.  Barry was smiling, but the expression looked strained, almost forced.  “Are you alright, Barry?” Len asked. 

Barry sighed heavily.  “It was a long night.”  He looked away from Len, fixing his gaze on the stove.  “Iris and Eddie got here early to help Clarissa and me with the cooking, and Eddie filled me in on what happened at STAR Labs.  He said you were lucky to be alive.” 

“We were both lucky,” Len said, thinking guiltily that even Eddie wasn’t even fully aware of how bad things had gotten when he’d been fighting the man in yellow down in the bowels of STAR Labs.  The other detective had no idea that the Flash had saved his life.  In some ways it was a good thing; if he’d known, he would have told Barry, and given the CSI even more reasons to worry. 

“I don’t want you to be lucky,” Barry said, finally turning his gaze back to Len.  “I want you to be safe.  Isn’t that stupid of me?” he said with a bleak smile.  “I send you and everyone else after my mother’s killer, and when things go sideways all I want is for everyone to be okay.  What a stupid expectation.” 

Len swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat, turning to face Barry fully.  He wasn’t going to let the kid blame himself, not when the situation had been beyond his power to control.  “That isn’t stupid.  Wanting to protect the people who matter to you is never stupid.” 

Barry drew in a sharp breath, and the next thing Len knew, he was being pulled into a hug. 

Len’s arms responded automatically, wrapping around Barry before his brain managed to overcome its confusion.  The first thing that struck him was how _warm_ the kid was.  Len knew he ran colder than the average human, but hugging Barry felt a bit like stepping into a sunbeam after spending too many hours inside.  When combined with the fact that the hug itself was quite comfortable, there was no way that Len could have passed this up even if he’d wanted to. 

Len allowed one hand to rest on the small of Barry’s back, and felt a surge of relief when he felt the tension drain from Barry’s shoulders.  Hugging Barry was nice, if completely unexpected.  Len wasn’t sure what had blindsided him more – the fact that Barry had hugged him in the first place, or how much it mattered that he had _._

When had this become more than a question of trust, or even of friendship? 

There was a part of Len that felt guilty for enjoying this.  Barry was only hugging Len because he’d been worried and upset, which was the last thing Len wanted.  He’d been scared and upset because of Len’s failure.  Barry may not have blamed him for losing track of the man in yellow, but that was bad enough.  Len quietly resolved not to tell Barry anything about the man in yellow breaking into his apartment, at least not yet.  There was nothing that Barry could do, and knowing would only make him feel worse. 

Holding people didn’t always protect them; Len knew that better than most.  But he wished it was enough. 

He also wished that he could pull Barry closer, instead of letting go.    

Len took a deep breath and released Barry, taking a step back.  The CSI looked as startled as Len felt; he rubbed the back of his neck, looking shaken.  “Um.  Sorry about that,” he said, his eyes wide.  “Was that too weird?” 

“It wasn’t weird,” Len said immediately.  The last thing he wanted was for Barry to think that he wasn’t okay with being hugged, especially given that he badly wanted to hug the CSI again.  Dammit, he hated when Lisa was right.  “Everyone needs a hug sometimes.” 

It was an pathetically bland response, and Len would have kicked himself if Lisa’s timely appearance in the doorway of the kitchen hadn’t provided a perfect distraction.  “There you two are,” she said, giving Len a stern look.  “Stop sulking in the kitchen, Lenny.  You’re making poor Mick socialize all by himself.” 

“Well we can’t have that,” Len said, swapping a look with Barry before starting for the door.  It was a good thing that Lisa hadn’t walked on the two of them hugging.  “Shall we?” 

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” Barry said to Len quietly as they walked back toward the main sitting room of the house.  “I mean it – if you get yourself killed, I’m gonna be really pissed.” 

“You and Lisa will have to fight it out,” Len said, ignoring the twinge of guilt he felt about keeping things from his sister as well as Barry.  He still hadn’t told Lisa about the break-in, and he wasn’t going to; he knew she’d find a way to get him ordered off the case if she found out.  “Between the two of you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you brought me back from the dead so you could kill me yourselves.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Barry said, smirking as he bumped Len’s shoulder with his own.  Len’s chest swelled traitorously; he quashed the bubble of emotion, forcing himself not to glower in frustration.  It would give Barry the wrong idea, and it wasn’t the CSI he was irritated with.  It was himself, and his inconvenient feelings. 

He _really_ hated it when Lisa was right.  She and Mick were never going to let him hear the end of this. 

The sitting room was filled with people.  Eddie and Iris were sitting on the sofa, alongside Barry’s friend Cisco and a girl with wavy brown hair who Len had never met before.  She was chatting with Mick, and didn’t seem intimidated by his best friend’s gruff demeanor or burn scars.  Len’s estimation of her immediately rose by several notches. 

Lisa had made a beeline directly for Cisco, who had turned an endearing shade of red as soon as he’d caught sight of her.  On one hand, Len genuinely didn’t want to know; on the other hand, it was refreshing to see somebody nice pining after his sister.  Lisa could do better than the likes of Roscoe Dillion. 

The front door opened, sending a refreshing gust of winter air into the room.  “Hope I’m not too late for the toast!” called Detective West as he entered, carrying a large silver flask in both hands.  “I know you had Grandma Esther’s eggnog covered, Iris, but I figured a refresher couldn’t hurt.” 

“Hey, Joe,” Barry said, leaving Len’s side to take the flask.  “I’m glad you could make it – sorry for the short notice.  I know things are really busy at the station around the holidays.” 

“That’s why I was late,” West said.  “Nothing to worry about, just your usual rash of holiday thefts.  It’s squared away now.  Where’s Clarissa?  I feel like I haven’t seen her in ages.” 

“I think she saw you coming with that flask and made a beeline for the kitchen,” Barry said.  “It’s time for the toast, now that everybody’s here.” 

Clarissa emerged from the kitchen carrying a stack of clear plastic cups, and Barry filled each cup to the halfway point with a pale, cream-colored liquid.  “In this house we toast with eggnog,” he explained.  “Is anybody here allergic to dairy or eggs?  We’ve also got some alcohol-free eggnog in the kitchen if anybody prefers not to drink alcohol.” 

Everybody shook their head no, both to the food allergies and to the virgin eggnog.  Len was pleased to hear that Barry and Clarissa had thought that far ahead; if the eggnog proved good enough to require a second glass, he’d probably take them up on the alcohol-free version of the beverage.

Barry passed out the glasses, then walked to the front of the room with his own drink in hand.  “Normally Martin gives the toast, but this year Clarissa and I decided that I would do it,” he said with a small smile.  “I’m not exactly what you’d call a good public speaker, so bear with me.” 

Barry took a deep breath and looked around the room before continuing.  “The holidays have always been a big deal in this house.  No matter how busy things were, we always have taken the time to gather together around a table, share a meal, and be grateful for each other.  This has been a crazy year, for all of us, and I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for all of you,” he said, briefly meeting Len’s eyes.  “The house has never been this crowded – Clarissa almost had to buy a second turkey,” Barry said, looking at his foster mom with a smile.  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though this year has been hard, and some of the people we love aren’t with us,” he said, meeting the long-haired girl’s eyes briefly, “our family is bigger than it’s ever been.  And that’s something to celebrate.” 

“Hear, hear!” Iris said, raising her glass of eggnog.  Len and the others followed suit, lifting their cups before taking a sip of their drink.  Len’s eyebrows rose at the pungent whiff of alcohol that rose from the glass, but he drank nevertheless. 

On his right, Cisco didn’t seem to be faring as well; he made an indignant spluttering sound before looking up at Barry.  “Dude.  How much bourbon is _in_ this stuff?” 

Iris laughed.  “It’s Grandma Esther’s recipe,” she said, taking a gulp of her own drink.  “This is what she called _light_ on the bourbon.” 

Len noticed a gleam in Lisa’s eyes, and sighed inwardly as his sister knocked back her own glass.  “Can’t hold your liquor, Cisco?” she said, grinning playfully. 

“Okay, that’s just not fair,” Cisco said.  “I can drink!  I just wasn’t expecting a mouthful of bourbon, that’s all!” 

“I’m going to go make myself a plate,” said West, shaking his head and vacating the room.  Len agreed with the sentiment, but it was almost like watching a trainwreck, especially when Eddie caved in to peer pressure and downed half of his own glass of eggnog so that he could keep up with Lisa. 

“Alright, you guys, this has been fun,” said Barry, stepping forward with his own glass in hand.  “But I think it’s time we settled this.” 

And with that, the CSI drained his entire glass in one go. 

Cisco groaned and buried his face in hands, but Iris and the other girl both looked amused.  Lisa, on the other hand, looked dumfounded.  “Barry.  You can’t _chug drinks_ at your own holiday party.” 

“Don’t worry,” Barry said, setting his glass down on an end table with a grin.  “I have a really high tolerance.”  Len hoped the CSI was telling the truth; he’d never seen Barry drink any quantity of alcohol before. 

“Nice,” Mick said, sending Len an approving glance before taking a sip of his own drink.  At least Len’s best friend had given this his vote of confidence, for what it was worth.  “Where’s your family from, kid?” 

Barry shrugged.  “My mom had some Irish relatives, so I guess I come by it honestly,” he said, a faintly wistful look passing briefly over his face.  “Seriously though – we should all go make plates.  Let’s save the drink-off for another night.” 

They filed into the kitchen and began the gymnastics of trying to fit enough food onto their plates.  Len resolved to take a bit of everything at first, and to get more of his favorites when he came back for seconds.  To his amusement, he saw Barry scoop out a large portion of his sweet potato casserole, scooting his slices of turkey to the side to make room.  “Don’t forget, there’s going to be latkes later!” he said.  “Don’t stuff yourselves too much.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Cisco groaned.  “I don’t know where Clarissa is, but when I see her I’m giving that woman a medal.” 

“I can’t take all the credit,” Clarissa said, poking her head around the kitchen entrance.  “You and Leonard both brought side dishes.” 

“Ooh, which one is yours, Cisco?” Lisa asked, looking interested.   

“The potatoes au gratin,” Cisco said, looking alarmed.  “But-”

Lisa plucked a potato from her plate and ate it in one bite.  “Mmm,” she said, her eyes widening.  “Cisco, this is delicious.  I didn’t know you could cook.” 

“Neither did I,” Cisco said weakly.  Barry caught Len’s eye and flashed him a grin; abruptly, Len remembered that Cisco had purchased his side dish, instead of making it.  It didn’t seem like he was going to come clean to Lisa, though, which meant he was probably going to try and learn to make the dish for real. 

As they left the kitchen, Len tapped Cisco on the shoulder.  “If you need a good recipe for potatoes au gratin, I can point you in the right direction,” he said, keeping his expression level. 

Cisco turned beet-red.  “Please just let me die.” 

The dining room table wasn’t large enough for everyone, so they ate wherever there was space.  Len worried about spilling food on the furniture until he saw Barry sit down on the sofa and begin eating.  If one of the hosts was doing it, it was probably safe enough.  Len couldn’t resist taking occasional surreptitious glances at him, even though his own food was delicious.  He wanted to see Barry’s reaction to his sweet potato casserole. 

When he took his first bite, Len decided Barry’s reaction was definitely worth the wait.  His eyes grew so round that they nearly fell out of his head, and he stared at Len in astonishment.  “Holy shit,” he said with his mouth full before swallowing the bite with a brief, embarrassed expression.  “Len.  You’re a _fucking incredible cook._ They should invent a new holiday just to celebrate this sweet potato casserole.” 

Len hoped his answering smile wasn’t too goofy.  “I’m glad you like it.” 

“ _Like_ it?  If this casserole were a human being, I’d marry it,” Barry said fervently, taking another bite.  “Guys, have you _had_ any of this?” he said to the rest of the guests. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Iris said, with an undertone of glee that made Len suspect she wasn’t just talking about the sweet potato casserole.  He hastily returned his attention to his own plate; with Lisa and Mick already in attendance, the last thing he needed was for his _feelings_ to attract the attention of Barry’s best friend as well. 

His eyes lit on the long-haired girl sitting beside Cisco; she was the only person at the party that he hadn’t met before, besides Barry’s foster mother.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said to her, giving her a nod.  “I’m Leonard Snart – a coworker of Barry’s.” 

The girl’s answering smile was warmer than Len had been expecting.  “I think I saw you at the hospital, but only in passing,” she replied.  “I’m Caitlin.  Barry’s a friend of mine.” 

“You visited Barry at the hospital?” Len said.  He was surprised that he hadn’t remembered Caitlin, since she apparently remembered him.  To be fair, he’d had a lot on his mind that day. 

Len was also surprised, and frustrated, to find that he could feel the beginnings of jealousy prickling at him.  He took a deep breath and swept the unworthy emotion away, keeping his discomfort from showing on his face with an effort of will.  Of course Barry was going to have friends that Len hadn’t met.  He hadn’t reacted this badly to Oliver – although, in hindsight, that was probably because he’d been closer to Len’s age than Barry’s, and therefore less of a threat. 

Len wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose.  _A threat._ He’d actually just thought of another person as a _threat_ to a relationship that didn’t even exist, and probably never would.  How had his feelings gotten this unruly without him noticing? 

“I did,” Caitlin said, not seeming to notice that Len was busy beating himself up in the middle of their conversation.  “It’s nice to finally meet you, though.  Barry talks about you a lot,” she said with a smile. 

“He does?”  Len’s surprise was enough to put the kibosh on his unbecoming jealousy, much to his relief. 

“Yep!” Cisco chimed in from Caitlin’s other side.  “He thinks you’re pretty cool.” 

“Pun intended?” Len asked, his lips twitching. 

“You walked right into that one, honey,” Lisa said, patting Cisco’s shoulder as he stared at Len in horror.  “But inquiring minds want to know.  Just exactly what kinds of things _has_ Barry been saying about my brother?” 

“Um.”  Cisco’s expression became nervous.  “I don’t think – I mean, that is to say-”

“I’m going to go refill my plate,” Len said, standing up.  Hopefully removing himself from the conversation would prevent Lisa from grilling Cisco too hard. 

Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what Barry said about him when he wasn’t around.  He had no guarantee that the comments would be positive, and regardless, he didn’t deserve to listen to secondhand praise when he’d been acting like a jealous ass. 

Getting more food had mainly been an excuse; Len wasn’t feeling particularly hungry at the moment.  Regardless, he placed his plate in the designated location for dirty dishes and stepped out of the kitchen, intending to find Mick and hopefully decompress. 

Instead of Mick, he spotted Barry standing by the window, looking out over the backyard with an empty plate in one hand and a distant expression.  “Are you alright?” Len asked, concerned.  “You look like there’s something on your mind.” 

Barry started, looking guilty.  “I was just thinking about the people who aren’t here tonight, that’s all,” he said, setting his plate on a nearby endtable before moving closer to Len and lowering his voice.  “It’s bothering me.  I really want to stay positive, at least for tonight, but I can’t help feeling like trying to trap the man in yellow made everything worse.” 

Len supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by Barry’s continuing self-recrimination, but he still hated to see the CSI blaming himself for things that weren’t his fault.  “I don’t suppose it would make you feel better if I pointed out that things could have been worse,” he said wryly.  “We could have lost the tachyon prototype.” 

Barry visibly squirmed at the mention of the tachyon prototype, and Len’s eyebrows rose.  Now _that_ was an interesting reaction.  He’d have thought Barry would feel better at the reminder that the man in yellow hadn’t managed to steal the device. 

But then a memory surfaced in his mind of the story Tony Woodward had told him about Barry’s high-school drug bust.  Barry had a history of doing underhanded things in order to get the cases that were important to him solved quickly, even when his solutions were barely within the bounds of legal.  If he’d had something to do with the acquisition of the tachyon prototype, it would explain his guilty conscience, _and_ the conspicuous lack of need for a warrant on the CCPD’s part in the first place. 

If Len’s suspicions proved correct, he was interested in hearing the story.  And maybe a bit of friendly back-and-forth would provide the distraction that both of them seemed to need.   

“About the tachyon prototype,” Len said slowly, forcing himself not to show even the barest hint of a smile.  The more he thought about it, the more he became sure that _something_ had happened; hopefully it wasn’t anything too illegal, although he was confident that Barry would have covered his tracks.  “I thought it was awfully easy for us to get our hands on it, considering how _protective_ researchers can be of their tech.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” 

“Um,” Barry said nervously.  “I can explain.” 

It was as good as a confession, and Len’s lips twitched.  _Got him._ “Go on.” 

“Dr. McGee had already said no to Captain Singh,” Barry said, fidgeting.  “And I knew it would be really hard for us to get a warrant, since we’d have to prove that the tachyon prototype was necessary to the investigation.  So I may have blackmailed Dr. McGee into giving us the prototype?” 

Len had thought he was prepared for anything, but he hadn’t been expecting that.  “You _blackmailed_ the CEO of a Fortune 500 company?” he said, dumfounded.  “How?” 

Barry grimaced.  “I kind of threatened to sell top-secret research information to Science Showcase Magazine.”

Len couldn’t help it; he laughed.  “You threatened Tina McGee with her own secrets,” he said, still chuckling.  “That took guts, kid.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Wait a second.  You’re not mad at me?” 

“Do you want me to be mad at you?” Len said, still smiling.  He couldn’t believe that Barry had pulled off something so audacious.  Lisa would get a kick out of this one.

“No, but – you were interrogating me in my own home in the middle of a holiday party!” Barry said, still staring at Len in astonishment.  “Aren’t you supposed to discourage me from doing this stuff?  This is exactly the sort of thing that pissed you off about the Woodward case!” 

Len raised an eyebrow.  “You could have gotten in trouble for what you did on the Woodward case.” 

“And I could also have gotten in a ton of trouble for _blackmailing a CEO._ Why aren’t you saying something?” said Barry, his expression baffled. 

Privately, Len couldn’t help but feel that there wasn’t a force on earth strong enough to prevent Barry from stirring up trouble, if he was determined to do so.  “I’m not saying anything because I’m not surprised,” Len said bluntly.  “Things with Woodward caught me off-guard, and I overreacted.” 

Barry tilted his head skeptically.  “So you’re saying that my slightly-shady methods weren’t the problem?  The problem was that I caught you by surprise?” 

Len wasn’t entirely sure what Barry was getting at with this.  His intention hadn’t been to dredge up the old argument about Woodward again.  “There aren’t any hard feelings about that, Barry.  It’s in the past.” 

“I know.  I’m just – startled,” Barry said, shaking his head.  “I guess you don’t like surprises much.” 

“Not about the people in my life, no,” Len admitted.  “I like to know who I’m dealing with.  But this point, I do feel like I know you.  You’re an… unorthodox operator, but so am I from time to time.  So is Lisa.  What matters to us is that you’re honest, and a good man.” 

“Oh,” Barry said, his voice very small.  For a second, his shoulders slumped, but before Len could open his mouth to ask him what was wrong, the CSI was already straightening back up.  “Well I do have one surprise for you,” he said.  “I hope it doesn’t bug you that I got you a present.” 

Len shook his head.  “Not at all.  I’m afraid I didn’t get you anything,” he said, feeling a bit guilty. 

“You can always just cook for me again,” said Barry with a brief flash of teeth.  “If all your food is as good as that sweet potato casserole, that would definitely be considered a gift.” 

Barry left his spot by the window and vanished back into the house, which was fortunate, because Len had a sneaking suspicion that if he looked in a mirror right now, he’d be blushing. 

The CSI returned with two small, neatly-wrapped boxes in his hands.  “Iris and I have a tradition where we give each other two gifts – a gag gift that we thought was funny, and a nice gift.  It might be a bit overboard, but we do it with all our friends, so I got you two things too,” Barry said, holding out both boxes with a sheepish smile.  “The square one is the gag gift, if you want to open it first.” 

Len obligingly slid one finger into the paper, breaking the tape and unwrapping the box without damaging the wrapping.  It was sweet of Barry to get him a present in the first place, but it was gratifying that Barry had included him in a tradition of his. 

The first box contained a small snowglobe with a tiny, cartoony-looking penguin inside.  Len inverted the globe several times, his lips twitching upwards as he watched the snowflakes cascade over the penguin’s head.  “Cute.” 

“It reminded me of you,” said Barry with a shrug.  “Since, you know, Captain Cold and all.” 

Len snorted at the mention of his nickname, then he paused.  “How did you know that some people call me Captain Cold?” he said, looking at Barry curiously. 

Barry froze, staring at Len like a deer in the headlights.  “Um.  Joe told me,” he said.  “He said the Flash calls you Captain Cold sometimes.  Do you not like it?” 

“I like it,” Len said.  “I just hadn’t heard you use that nickname before.”  Now that he thought about it, Len did have a vague memory of Tockman calling him Captain Cold during that disaster of a hostage situation; maybe Barry had heard it then, too.  “And the snowglobe _is_ cute.” 

“I’m glad,” Barry said, handing over the second box.  “I had a friend of mine fiddle with this a bit – hopefully it’s something you’ll be able to use.” 

Intrigued, Len unwrapped the second box and set the paper aside.  He opened the slim white box inside and folded the tissue paper aside to reveal a pair of slim, black leather gloves. 

“I asked Lisa about your glove size and got these for you,” Barry said, his voice faintly anxious.  “They’re breathable, and one of my engineering friends from college helped me work some therma-threading into the lining.  They’ll help your hands warm up more quickly after using your powers.” 

Len stared at the gloves for several seconds, then looked up at Barry.  Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he pulled on the right glove.  The black leather was soft and supple, and the glove itself was giving off a faint warmth. 

“The gloves will get warmer the colder your hands are,” Barry explained as Len pulled on the left glove as well, flexing his fingers to check the fit.  “Up to a point, of course – I know you run colder than most people, so I didn’t want to toast your hands. Do you like them?” he said hopefully. 

“Barry.  I love them.  Thank you,” Len said, folding his hands together to prevent himself from doing something stupid, like giving Barry another hug.  Or kissing him.  He wished he was better at expressing himself when he was feeling emotional; a simple thank-you didn’t seem adequate for a gift as thoughtful as this one. 

Fortunately, Barry seemed to understand.  He beamed, the widest smile Len had seen on him since the man in yellow had appeared.  “Thank god.  I’m really glad they’re something you can use.” 

“I intend to,” Len said.  If he had his way, he’d keep using them at the station during the summer, whether the other officers sent strange looks his way or not. 

“Good.  I’ve gotta give Iris her present before I forget – it’s a replica of her mom’s wedding band,” Barry said in an undertone.  “She lost the original during a field trip to the zoo.” 

How was anyone this thoughtful at giving gifts?  Len was going to have to get him something now, and he was going to have to make it _good._ “I’m sure she’ll love it,” Len said.  “I think I’m going to admire the view for a while.  I’ve had plenty to eat.” 

“Hope you saved room for latkes!” Barry said, looking over his shoulder as he walked away.  “They’re coming up!” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Len said, mostly to himself, staring out the window at the darkened yard. 

To Len’s relief, the brief jealous tendencies that had reared their ugly head hadn’t made any kind of resurgence at the thought of Barry giving an equally-thoughtful gift to someone else.   Gifts weren’t inherently romantic in nature, and Len didn’t need to read any such implications into Barry’s presents to appreciate them for what they were – kind gestures that showed his friends and family he valued them.  It was unlikely that Barry had meant any deeper meaning behind the gesture, especially where Len was concerned, and Len was okay with that.  He felt valued, and _known_ in a way that was somehow more gratifying because it had come as a surprise. 

What _wasn’t_ a gratifying surprise was the fact that Len had somehow managed to misinterpret his own interest in Barry for such a long time.  Now that he looked back, his feelings for the CSI had been obvious.  No wonder his sister had egged him on so much. 

Before tonight, in spite of Lisa’s teasing, Len had been confident that Barry’s friendship was the only thing he was striving for. 

Now he wasn’t sure he knew what he wanted, and it was… unsettling. 

The sound of heavy footfalls behind him made Len take a deep breath.  It was probably Mick, coming to snap Len out of his funk with some good-natured teasing.  A shame that he wasn’t really in the mood for it right now. 

But when he turned around, Len saw that it wasn’t Mick.  It was Detective West, and the expression on his face wasn’t promising.  For a confused moment, Len wondered if West had overseen the gift exchange between Barry and himself, and was coming over to express his disapproval. 

Almost as soon as West started talking, Len found himself wishing that his first guess had been right. 

“We’ve got a problem, Snart,” West said in an undertone.  “I was late to the party tonight because we got a phone call from Mercury Labs.  Sometime between last night and tonight, the tachyon prototype disappeared.” 

Len’s stomach felt like lead, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten so much.  “What do you mean, it disappeared?” 

“Someone stole it,” West said flatly, “and whoever it was, there wasn’t a trace of them on any of the security cameras.  None of the alarms were tripped.  Nobody had any idea it was gone until one of the staff went to run some tests on it.  It’s like whoever stole it just walked through the wall, grabbed it, and vanished.”

“Could it have been the man in yellow?” Len asked. 

West looked uncertain.  “He’s the most likely suspect, but if he was able to steal the tachyon prototype so easily, why didn’t he just take it the first night he came to Mercury Labs?” 

Len nodded slowly.  This wasn’t adding up.  Either the man in yellow was much more capable than he’d appeared, or a new player had taken the stage. 

They needed to find out which was the case, and they needed to do it fast. 

“I don’t think we should tell Barry about this yet,” West said, looking back at the gathering behind them. 

Len followed his gaze and saw Barry hugging Iris; clearly she’d liked her present.  Both of them were smiling.  Len thought back to how upset Barry had been in the kitchen that evening, and how he felt personally responsible for the safety of the tachyon prototype because of the way he’d blackmailed Dr. McGee, and he found himself nodding.  “We need to tell him soon,” Len said.  “He has a right to know, and if he finds out we’re keeping things from him, it will make things worse.  But there’s one thing I need to check first.” 

West nodded, his expression grim.  “I figured you’d want to see the security tapes.  I had them pulled for you – they’ll be in your box at the station next time you go in.” 

“I’ll watch the tapes, but I’m more interested in the tracking algorithm that Cisco made for us, back during the Woodward case,” Len said. 

West’s eyebrows rose.  “The Flash tracker?  What do you need it for?” 

“The Flash promised me answers,” Len said, looking away from West and back to where Barry was sitting in the living room, warm and happy, surrounded by his friends.  “I’ve been giving him time, but I need to find him and see what he knows.  About the man in yellow, _and_ about STAR Labs.” 

Len wished there was another way.  Lying by omission was still lying, and Len knew that Barry would be angry with him when he learned that Len had concealed information about his mother’s case. 

But without the Flash’s intel, Len and the rest of the metahuman taskforce would be running blind. 

He’d learn what he could and then come clean, and hope in the meantime that Barry would forgive him for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really starting to happen now! Sharing these chapters is such a good feeling; these are scenes I've been excited about since I first started writing this fic, so getting to share them after all this time feels so good. 
> 
> The penguin in Len's snowglobe is a reference to Redhead's fantastic ColdFlash soulmate AU, An All Too Jagged Snowflake, which is still one of my favorite ColdFlash fics. The scene that the penguin came from was so heartwarming that it made me cry in the middle of a public library when I first read it, and it was fantastic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the update! Comments and kudos are much-appreciated, as always! <3


	26. Compromised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get into the author's note on this chapter, I just wanted to say a massive thank-you to everyone who commented on the last chapter! The positive response really blew me away, and they were definitely a huge factor in how fast I was able to write this update. I'm looking forward to replying to them all this weekend and giving them the attention they deserve. 
> 
> I also will go ahead and warn that there are a few scenes in this chapter that deal with anxiety and PTSD. They aren't graphic, but they are emotional so I wanted to give people a heads-up just in case.
> 
> I'm really emotional about posting this update. By Any Other Name is still quite a ways from being done, but I've been looking forward to writing the events that take place in this chapter ever since I started writing this fic a year and a half ago. This is a milestone that I couldn't be happier to reach, and I want to thank all of you for sticking with me this long! I hope you enjoy the new chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

All things considered, Barry really wished he’d given Iris her present at the beginning of the party. 

Getting the replica of Iris’ mother’s wedding band had taken weeks of planning.  He’d started the bulk of the work while he’d been on leave from the CCPD with his gunshot wound, and without the extra time, visiting jewelers and comparing prices would have been much more difficult.  Joe had been able to give him the right ring size, once he’d confirmed that Barry wasn’t asking on Eddie’s behalf.  Barry hadn’t called him out on it, determined to avoid touching _that_ mess with a ten-foot pole – ironic, considering how much bigger a shambles he’d managed to make of his own romantic life lately.

Iris loved her gift, but a good portion of Barry’s pleasure in giving it had been sucked away by the heart-stopping conversation he’d had with Len.  He’d managed to hold it together long enough to give Len his own gift, but it had been a long day and Barry was quickly reaching the limits of his stress tolerance.  His hands had almost been trembling too much to fasten the clasp of the necklace, and from Iris’ questioning gaze, she’d definitely noticed. 

“Alright, spill,” she’d told him in an undertone after she’d thanked and hugged him profusely.  “You’re freaking out about something, and I know it’s not about how good Len looks in his dress shirt.” 

“You aren’t far off,” Barry said weakly.  It wasn’t his fault that Len looked gorgeous.  The fact that he’d managed to eat an entire meal without getting a single stain on his collared white shirt was _almost_ as impressive as how good he looked in grey dress slacks. 

Iris’ eyebrows rose.  “You’re actually admitting to it?  _That’s_ new,” she said, looking pleased.  “I wonder if he’d tell me where he got his pants tailored, because they look-”

“Iris, please don’t,” Barry groaned.  He didn’t have any right to admire Len tonight, much less check out his _ass._ “I’m already panicking enough.” 

She drew back and looked at him sharply.  “You _are_ freaking out.  What’s wrong?  Did Len not like his present?” 

He couldn’t do this here.  “Can we go outside?” Barry said, suddenly desperate for some ice-cold air.  Maybe the winter weather would knock some sense into him.  “It’s just – there’s too many people.  I need a minute.” 

“Of course.”  Iris stood and headed for the front door, taking her coat from the rack and pulling it on.  Barry followed, pausing only to catch Clarissa’s eye and mouth “five minutes” to her.  He still needed to help with the latkes, once he’d finished his mini-meltdown. 

Before he closed the door behind him, he stole a look at Len.  His friend was talking to Joe about something – probably work stuff, if the serious expressions on both men’s faces were anything to go by. 

He was still wearing Barry’s present, and he deserved so much better.   

“You look like somebody drop-kicked a puppy right in front of you,” Iris said, her expression sympathetic.  The fact that she wasn’t teasing him anymore was a testament to how bad he must look to her.  “What happened?” 

Barry sat on the front step heavily.  “Iris, I fucked up.” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Iris said apologetically, sitting next to him and holding out an arm. 

Barry leaned into her, grateful for the shelter.  “Did Eddie tell you what went down at STAR Labs last night?” 

“He told me some of it,” Iris said.  “Enough that I wanted to simultaneously yell at him for endangering his life and kiss him for being a brave idiot.” 

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t know the half of it,” Barry said, closing his eyes.  “What Eddie _doesn’t_ know is that the man in yellow nearly killed Len last night.  _Would_ have killed him, if I hadn’t shown up at exactly the right moment,” he said, drawing a shaky breath.  “And I know he isn’t just doing this for me – but this isn’t just another case to either of us, and he’s already almost died once.  What if I don’t make it there fast enough next time?  What if he ends up dead like my mom just because he picked the wrong lost cause to throw himself at?” 

“First of all, I hope you know that you and your dad are not a lost cause,” Iris said, squeezing Barry’s shoulders.  “Don’t get too down on yourself.” 

“Somebody’s gotta be realistic,” Barry said darkly.  “My dad’s case is one thing, but I’m a completely different matter.  Do you know what Len told me just now?  He told me that he doesn’t have a problem with me sneaking around and twisting the facts while I’m on the job – can you believe it?  A _detective_ who doesn’t hate me for exploiting the hell out of the flaws in the system!  But guess what he does hate!  He hates _secrets!_ And he thinks he knows me well enough to call me _honest,_ ” Barry finished, shaking his head.  “I’m probably the least honest man he’s ever met, and he puts away criminals for a living.” 

“Oh Barry,” Iris said, looking at him sadly.  “I’m sorry.  Weren’t you already worried about this earlier?  Has it gotten worse?” 

“Yeah,” Barry said quietly.  “I didn’t actually have verbal confirmation that he’d hate me for lying to him until tonight.  And until last night, I didn’t realize how much I actually wanted – this.  Whatever we are.  We were finally fighting on the same team last night, and even though I was scared shitless at what we were facing and how close he’d nearly come to dying, working together felt so _good,_ ” he said, curling in on himself just a tiny bit more.  “I wish I could have that, but I can’t, and it’s my own damn fault.” 

Iris rubbed his back in slow circles; it was grounding in spite of everything, and Barry felt a little of the tension relax out of his shoulders.  “If you’d rather just vent tonight, feel free to stop me, but in the meantime I’m gonna give you some unsolicited advice,” she said.  “You know that Len’s a smart guy, right?  You probably won’t be able to keep this from him forever.  And the sooner you tell him, the better things will work out.” 

“I know,” Barry said, closing his eyes as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.  “But it’s gonna suck.” 

“I know it will,” Iris said.  “But I’ll be waiting with a pint of ice cream or three if you need to eat away your feelings.” 

“Sounds like a plan.  God, Iris, I’m so fucked – did you try that casserole he brought over?  Len can _cook,”_ Barry said, dropping his head into his hands with a groan.  “It’s like he knows that the best way to seduce a speedster is through his stomach.” 

“If the way he was looking at you during dinner was any indication, he’d be glad to hear it,” Iris said.  Barry risked glancing at her and saw that she was smirking in the light of the porch.  “I really do think he likes you, Barry.” 

“It probably won’t matter after this,” Barry sighed.  He couldn’t accept the face value of that statement, no matter how much he might want to – not until he knew whether or not he’d even have Len’s friendship once he’d finally come clean.  “But honestly, Iris?  He’s worth it,” he confessed, a tiny, impossible smile forming on his lips.  “He really is.” 

Barry still couldn’t believe he’d been bold enough to actually hug Len, all things considered – it was a dead giveaway to how worried he’d actually been, and since he wasn’t supposed to know how close Len had come to dying, he’d been afraid that it would seem over-the-top.  But Len hadn’t made fun of him for it, and he was such a fantastic hugger that the risk was far overshadowed by the reward.  Barry had actually felt _safe_ in Len’s arms, even with how crazy everything had gotten around them.  For him, that was huge, and it was ultimately a bigger deal than how much Barry had wished he could step closer to Len, bury his face in his neck, and just… stay there. 

“Earth to Barry,” Iris said, and Barry started.  “You kind of zoned out on me for a second.” 

“Whoops,” Barry said, suddenly grateful for the relative darkness.  The last thing he wanted was for Iris to catch him blushing, and he _had_ just basically been fantasizing about doing physical stuff with Len.  Even if it wasn’t particularly sexual in nature, Barry didn’t feel like explaining to Iris how he’d been thinking about how fantastic it would be to have Len run his fingers through Barry’s hair for a few minutes.  “I was just.  Thinking about stuff,” he said, feeling his face burn even more fiercely.  “About how things are complicated now when they didn’t have to be.” 

“I wish I had your presents with me to distract you,” Iris said, seeming to buy that Barry had been merely upset instead of lusting after his coworker.  “You look like you need some cheering up.” 

“You could always just tell me what it is,” Barry said, waggling his eyebrows with a small smile. 

Iris tilted her head, considering, before she nodded.  “Alright, fair.  For your nice gift, I got you a new microscope.  You’re always complaining about how bad the one at the CCPD is, so I figured you deserved your own.  And for your gag gift… I got you a Flash t-shirt.” 

“What?” Barry said, his jaw dropping.  “Those actually exist?  Who’s making them?” 

“I bought this one from an Etsy vendor,” Iris said.  “But you could probably make an intellectual property claim.  Maybe STAR Labs could come out as your public backer and sell merchandise since they’re not making tech for the public anymore.” 

Barry’s lips twitched.  “Cisco would love it, but Dr. Wells would probably have a fit,” he said.  “We’d have to hang up a gigantic sign that said ‘STAR Labs, Home of the Flash’ – wait a second.”  Barry broke off suddenly at the sound of a rustling noise in the bushes.  Whatever it was, it sounded too big to be a cat or a raccoon – and Barry had dealt with one too many murderous speedsters this week to take any chances.  “Who’s there?” he said, rising from the porch to place himself between Iris and the source of the noise.  “You’d better come out where I can see you, or you’ll be sorry.” 

Nothing happened, but Barry refused to let himself feel foolish.  He kept staring out into the dark, waiting.  Even if the source of the noise was just a large stray dog, something should have happened by now. 

“Barry, what – ” Iris began, looking up at him in confusion, but she broke off with a gasp when a familiar figure emerged from the bushes. 

Barry’s mouth went dry.  He’d been expecting the Reverse-Flash, but standing right in front of him was the long-haired, disheveled ghost of Caitlin’s apparently-dead fiancé, Ronnie Raymond – also known as Firestorm.  “Ronnie,” he said, forcing himself to speak.  “Holy shit.”

Ronnie took a step back, shaking his head.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I never – you weren’t supposed to know I was here.” 

“What?”  Barry stared at Ronnie in confusion.  “Ronnie, nobody’s going to make you leave.  Caitlin and Cisco are both inside – don’t you want to see them?  They miss you.” 

“I can’t,” Ronnie said, cringing away from Barry.  “I’m not Ronnie.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  This wasn’t good.  “Yes you are!” he said, wishing he could approach without terrifying the man in front of him.  “Your name is Ronnie Raymond.  Caitlin Snow is your fiancée.  You’re the structural engineer at STAR Labs, but you were in an accident.  Do you remember?” 

“STAR Labs,” Ronnie said slowly.  “I do remember something.  I was going to STAR Labs with my research when it happened.  Doctor Wells said he wanted to see it, and I wanted to congratulate him on the success of the particle accelerator.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “What research?  Are you talking about the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. project?  Is that what made you like this?  Why were you working on it?” 

“Because it was mine,” said Ronnie, staring at Barry in confusion.  “But I went too far.” 

“Went too far, how?” Barry pressed. 

But Ronnie was shaking his head, backing away from him.  “I can’t tell you these things – I have to stay away from you, from all of you.  Clarissa already told me to stay away.” 

“How do you know Clarissa?” Iris asked.  Ronnie started, staring at her as if he hadn’t even noticed that she was there.  “If you worked at STAR Labs, wouldn’t you have been more likely to have met her husband?” 

Barry stopped breathing as a thought crashed into him like a train.  “You said you knew Clarissa,” he said slowly, staring at the man in front of him.  “Do you know me?” 

“Of course I do,” he said, his expression looking devastated for a brief instant.  “But I didn’t want you to see me like this.” 

Barry forced himself to breathe before speaking again.  “How many tries did it take us to get the rapid-oxidation demonstration right for my first high school science fair project?” he said, scarcely able to hope. 

The man tilted his head.  “We never got it right,” he said, hesitantly at first but gradually becoming surer of himself.  “The experiment worked at home, but it blew up in your face at the science fair.  You were almost suspended, but we managed to prove that the chlorine gas was produced because of residual cleaning chemicals in the school’s distilled water supply, not because of your experiment,” he said, smiling fondly at the memory.  “It was… fun.” 

Barry almost fell to his knees.  “Oh god.  Martin.  It really is you.” 

Iris gasped.  “This is Martin Stein?  Your foster dad?  But how?” 

“Believe me, Miss West, if I knew, I’d tell you,” Ronnie – Martin – said with a shaky smile.  “I’m sorry I’ve put all of you through this.” 

“Then stop putting us through this,” Barry said, taking a step forward.  Martin watched him warily, but didn’t retreat further.  “We don’t care what you look like – we just want you back.  Why don’t you come home?” 

“Barry, it’s not that simple,” Martin said.  Barry’s heart thudded at the sound of his foster dad saying his name, even if it wasn’t the right voice saying it.  “It’s not safe, _I’m_ not safe.  What I can do, it isn’t something I can control.” 

“That doesn’t matter.”  Barry halted an arm’s length away from his foster father, aching to reach out and touch but unwilling to risk scaring him away when they were so _close._ “STAR Labs can help you.  They helped me.” 

“Barry, I’m not just me anymore,” Martin said, shaking his head as if to dislodge water from his ears.  “The other one – Ronnie – he’s still here.  We’re trapped together.  Being at my old house and seeing you has made me feel clearer than I have in ages, but it won’t last.  It never lasts,” he said, his expression taking on a cast of despair that Barry had never seen on Martin’s face before.  The fact that this wasn’t even his real face somehow made it hurt even worse.  “Tomorrow I might not even remember that we had this conversation, much less that you offered your help.” 

Even when he’d been facing down the Reverse-Flash, Barry hadn’t felt this helpless.  “Please.  You’ve got to try.  If you won’t stay here, you’ve at least got to do everything you can to remember.  You and Ronnie both know STAR Labs – if you can both hear me, both of you _have_ to remember that we love you.”  He drew in a shaky breath.  “We can help you, if you’ll just come home to us.” 

Martin closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were white.  Barry’s stomach sank.  “I’ll try.  I promise I’ll try.”

“If you don’t show up in the next three days, I’m coming to find you,” Barry said, taking a step backward.  As much as he wanted to hug his foster dad, he couldn’t – if Martin caught on fire again, he had to make sure that he and Iris were both out of range.  “I’m serious.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Martin said, giving Barry a smile.  “Now I must go – I doubt that Clarissa’s relief at my survival, such as it is, would be enough to save me from her wrath should I accidentally burn down the house.” 

“Let’s not do that,” Barry said, managing to smile in response.  “When you get back, I’m making you all the latkes you can eat.  Okay?” 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

It seemed Barry had made the right call in stepping away.  Martin’s hands burst into flame, and he soared into the night sky with a burst of heat that made Barry’s face feel like he’d been sitting in front of a campfire. 

The twin contrails of flame grew gradually more distant, until they vanished from sight. 

Barry had found his foster dad – and now he was gone. 

He tore his eyes away from the night sky.  “Well that sure was something,” he said, turning his gaze to Iris, who was staring at him with a look of worry on her face.  “I hope none of the neighbors were looking out their windows.” 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Iris said softly. 

For a second, Barry just stared at her uncomprehendingly.  Then he laughed.  “Iris, there’s so much happening that I’m not even processing this right now.  My mom’s killer shows up, and now he’s gone.  My crush might reciprocate my feelings until I tell him the truth about who I am and what I’ve been doing.  And now my foster dad shows up, trapped in _someone else’s body,_ and then he disappears again.  I’m freaking the fuck out.  I have officially reached bullshit max capacity.  God I wish Grandma Esther’s eggnog did something to me.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Iris asked. 

“Just – sit with me, if you’re not too cold,” Barry said.  “I’m gonna keep myself talking until I feel like my brain is coming back online.”  Critically, he forced himself to at least take a step back and evaluate his responses.  He _should_ be feeling grief and helplessness, and the fact that he wasn’t feeling much of anything wasn’t a very good sign.  “I don’t want this to take too long.  Once I’m feeling a bit better I still need to help Clarissa with the latkes.”  His chest twinged at the thought of Martin out there alone and unable to partake in the latkes, but as sad a thought as that was, Barry could have cheered that his usual reactions weren’t completely buried.  “I don’t think this internal screaming session will take too long this time, if that’s any consolation.” 

“I’m here as long as you need me,” Iris said firmly.  “Hug or no hug?” 

“Give me a couple minutes on the hug,” Barry said, a bit apologetically.  The last thing he wanted was to accidentally overload himself with additional stimuli when he was already struggling to process things.  “But I’m stuck on how this could have happened.  It might help if I just – dumped an avalanche of technobabble on you, just to see if something sticks?  I’ll try to keep it short.” 

“Barry, I’m serious,” Iris said.  “Whatever helps you is fine with me.  You can technobabble all day long if it’ll make you feel better.” 

“Thanks,” Barry said, smiling faintly.  He really was lucky to have a best friend like Iris.  “Alright, I’m gonna go back to the beginning.  Martin was at STAR Labs the night that the particle accelerator went off – Clarissa and I already knew that.  Ronnie was also at STAR Labs that night, since he worked there.  And even though it’s Martin’s consciousness controlling Ronnie’s body…” He trailed off, shuddering for a second at the sci-fi ridiculousness of the whole scenario before continuing.  “Martin _did_ just confirm that Ronnie is still alive in there.  He’s just not the one doing the driving.” 

“That’s mildly terrifying,” Iris said, returning to her seat on the porch.  Barry followed suit, sitting beside her but not touching her yet.  “So it’s Martin’s brain in Ronnie’s body.  What happened to Martin’s body?” 

“I have no idea,” Barry admitted.  “It was never found, I know that much – he’d have been declared dead if they found his body, instead of missing.  I think there’s two things I need to know in order to make any guesses about what actually happened.  One, did Martin physically have the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. research on him when he went to STAR Labs?  And two, what exactly happened to Ronnie?  Caitlin told me that he was inside the particle accelerator when it exploded, and he was vaporized.  I didn’t want to push, but if I’m going to figure this out, I’ll need her to get more specific than that.”

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to ask,” said Iris with an expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace.  “I think I’m following you so far.  Is there anything else about the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. research that makes you think it could be used for something like this?” 

“I’ve actually never read all of Martin’s research,” Barry confessed.  “There’s over five hundred pages of the stuff, and there’s barely any pictures to take up room on the page.  But the gist of it is that F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. was a project on nuclear fusion technology – the same thing that powers the sun.  The sun converts hydrogen into helium for fuel, which produces tons of heat and light without generating any dangerous waste.  If Martin was able to get it working right, the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. matrix would revolutionize the way we generate energy.  It could replace the entire coal industry – nuclear power, too.” 

“So it takes one thing and changes it into something else?” Iris asked.  Barry nodded, and Iris looked impressed.  “That’s pretty cool.  But what would that do to a person?” 

Barry shrugged.  “It wasn’t the kind of research that was ever meant to be tested on a human being,” he said wryly.  “Odds are that anyone in the line of fire would either melt or blow up.  But combined with the dark matter from the particle accelerator, there’s no telling what might happen.” 

Iris nodded slowly.  “Are you gonna ask your team about it?” 

“I’ll have to,” Barry said.  “There’s no way I’d be able to figure this out on my own, and this affects them too.  Ronnie is Caitlin’s fiancé – it isn’t just my family on the line.” 

Barry’s chest squeezed at the thought of both of his found families being under threat again.  On the one hand, that was depressing as hell – but on the other hand, at least he had people around him who cared.  He wouldn’t have to go through this alone. 

The realization that there were people around who could help him was enough to loosen most of the remaining tension from Barry’s chest.  “I think the worst of it is over,” he said to Iris, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  “As long as I’m hiding in the kitchen making latkes, I think I’ll be fine.”  Clarissa wouldn’t ask him too many questions if he seemed more anxious than normal – she was good about giving him space, as long as he was honest with her about how he was feeling. 

“Good,” Iris said, holding out a hand.  Barry took it and gave it a quick squeeze before rising to his feet, feeling increasingly relieved when his knees didn’t wobble.  All things considered, he’d handled that shock pretty well considering he’d basically just seen his foster dad pulling an _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ impersonation. 

Nobody inside the house seemed to have noticed anything odd, whether it was Barry and Iris’ longer-than-planned absence or the literal burning man who’d turned up on their front lawn.  Before ducking into the kitchen, Barry’s eyes sought out Len in a classic example of crush-induced masochism.  The detective was talking to Joe and Eddie, his hands wrapped around a cup of what Barry guessed was probably eggnog.  He was still wearing the gloves. 

It blew Barry’s mind that just a few minutes before, his biggest worry had been whether or not his crush would hate him once he told him the truth. 

Clarissa was already in the kitchen, stirring the grated potato and onion they’d already made into the rest of the ingredients.  The oil was already on the stove.  “You’re just in time,” his foster mom said with a smile.  “Do you want to take the bowl or the stove?” 

“Bowl,” Barry said gratefully, moving to take her place.  Cooking the latkes to the right shade of golden goodness was more of an art than a science, and Clarissa had more experience than he did.  Besides, cooking the latkes was a waiting game – and the busier Barry kept his hands with shaping new patties, the less his mind would be able to wander. 

After the first round of latkes was finished, Barry carried the plate out into the main living area and set them on the dining room table, along with several bowls of toppings.  They had the traditional sour cream and applesauce toppings, of course, along with a few things Clarissa had read about online over the years and decided to try out – smoked salmon and cream cheese, ricotta and orange marmalade, and red pepper jelly.  “Dessert’s ready!” he called to the people gathered in the room. 

As the guests descended on the latkes, Barry noticed Joe giving him a significant look from beside the fireplace.  He approached furtively – whatever Joe had to tell him, it clearly wasn’t the sort of thing he could say out loud.  “What’s up?” he asked when he reached the detective. 

“I wanted to let you know that Snart is going to be looking for the Flash,” Joe said in an undertone.  “He has some questions about the man in yellow that he was apparently promised answers to.” 

Barry suppressed a grimace at the poor timing.  He could hardly fault Len for wanting his answers quickly, and he definitely couldn’t blame Joe for passing the information along – neither detective had any way of knowing that Barry really wasn’t in the mood for any additional stressors.  He wasn’t even ready to tell Clarissa or Caitlin about Martin and Ronnie’s reappearance, so he definitely wasn’t going to say anything to Len or Joe. 

Besides, Joe was doing him a mercy by warning him about Len’s intentions beforehand.  “Thanks for the heads-up,” he said, meaning it.  “I’ll make sure he’s able to find me.”

Joe nodded slowly.  “I won’t pretend to know why you’re so determined to keep your identity a secret,” he said, “but I’m not going to tell on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“It’s not,” Barry said, surprised that Joe would worry what Barry thought about his level of trustworthiness.  Joe had promised him and Iris that he’d keep the knowledge of Barry’s identity to himself, and Barry hadn’t worried that he’d tell anything to anyone who didn’t already know it.  It wasn’t the kind of man he was.  “I’ve just got other stuff on my mind, that’s all.” 

He’d been hoping to put the conversation between Len and himself off for longer than this.  Not only was Barry not emotionally prepared, he had no idea what he was even going to say.  Len would be asking him _questions –_ and if he lied, he’d be hampering Len’s work on the Reverse-Flash case. 

But how much truth was he willing to tell?  Was this the right time to come clean, or should he wait? 

Barry sighed inwardly before heading back to the kitchen.  At the end of the day, all the planning in the world wouldn’t be enough to prepare him for this conversation.  He’d just have to play things by ear, and hope that he didn’t fuck up too badly. 

* * *

After the party broke up, Mick dropped Lisa back at her apartment before driving Len back to his.  “You’ve got something on your mind,” he said to Len once they were alone in the car.  “What’s going on?”

Len sighed quietly.  He’d been able to play off his silence as simple tiredness to Lisa, who had quickly filled the conversational void with her thoughts on the food, and on Cisco.  But Mick hadn’t been fooled.  His best friend was extremely perceptive, considering how well he was able to hide it from people who didn’t know him.  

Besides, he’d gone to Mick after his apartment had been ransacked.  Mick already knew that he was in bad shape. 

“I was on a dangerous assignment last night before I called you,” Len said, hoping that Mick wouldn’t press him for details.  His friend wouldn’t like being left out of the action if he knew what Len had been doing, but Len wasn’t in the mood to argue about it now.  “The Flash ended up intervening in the case.  He promised me answers, and I’m going to need them sooner rather than later.”

“And let me guess, you’re uncomfortable interrogating Little Red because you’re worried the kid will cut and run,” Mick said, glancing at Len knowingly. 

“Among other reasons, yes.”  Len turned away and looked out the car window, hoping that Mick would take the hint and stop prying. 

Mick had never been very good at taking hints.  “And the intel this kid has, there’s no other way you can get it?” 

“There’s not,” Len said. 

“Then you’re doing what you have to do.  The Flash will get that,” Mick said.  “He knows you’re a good cop, and he trusts you, or he wouldn’t be coming at all.” 

Len nodded slowly.  At the end of the day, trust really was the crux of the matter.  He hoped the Flash liked and trusted him enough to give him what he needed.  “Drop me off at the station,” he said.  “I’ll need a car for what I have in mind.  Don’t tell Lisa about this yet.  Or my apartment, for that matter.” 

Mick nodded.  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.  It was as close as Mick usually came to a criticism.  “Lisa’ll kill you when she finds out about this.” 

That was, of course, assuming Len was still alive.  But he didn’t voice that concern out loud.  He was trying to stay optimistic. 

Once he was in a squad car, Len drove to the street in front of Jitters and parked the car.  He and the Flash had met at Jitters before.  If the speedster was looking for him, it seemed like the best place to start.  If the Flash didn’t show tonight, Len would have to re-evaluate and think of a new strategy.  He didn’t want to spend his nights on stakeout until the Flash decided to talk to him. 

On the other hand, at least he wasn’t in his apartment. 

The tiny dash-mounted clock read 12:51 AM when a streak of gold lightning caught Len’s attention.  He jerked back into full alertness just in time to see the Flash run up the side of the building, stopping on the roof of Jitters. 

Len climbed out of his car.  If the Flash wanted to avoid him, he could be long gone before Len made it up the fire escape.  But since he’d stopped in the first place, Len was willing to bet he’d still be up there waiting when he arrived. 

His hunch paid off.  The Flash was standing with his back to the stairs, staring out over the city.  “Scarlet,” Len said, nodding to the speedster even though the Flash wasn’t looking at him.  “Wasn’t sure you’d show.” 

“I saw a squad car parked outside Jitters and figured it had to be you,” the Flash replied, turning to face him.  “Sorry to keep you waiting.  I had – stuff to do.” 

Len decided not to let the Flash know that he’d been otherwise-occupied earlier in the evening.  He didn’t think Barry would appreciate it if Len disclosed their relationship, such as it was, to a costumed metahuman vigilante with the same powers as the man who’d killed his mother.  “Don’t worry about it.  But I still have questions for you.” 

The Flash nodded.  “I figured as much.  I’m ready – ask away.” 

Len took a deep breath.  _Here goes nothing._ “What is your connection to STAR Labs?” 

The Flash froze.  “Uh.  What?” 

Len was definitely onto something.  The Flash only reacted like that when he had something to hide.  “STAR Labs was able to design and build a working speedster trap in less than twenty-four hours.  I’m no scientist, but even I know that a turnaround time like that is virtually impossible unless you have prior knowledge of the subject.  Your familiarity with STAR Labs’ layout also suggests that you’ve been there before.” 

“That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m working with them,” the Flash argued. 

Len lifted one eyebrow.  “When you were whammied by Bivolo, a blonde-haired woman loaded you into a STAR Labs company car.” 

The Flash deflated.  “Alright, fine.  STAR Labs and I have some history,” he sighed.  “They saved my life after my accident and kept my powers from killing me.  They made my suit too.  I owed them – so when they told me they were trying to catch another speedster, I offered to let them test the trap on me.” 

Len fought to maintain a neutral expression.  He’d managed to establish a rapport with the Flash, and the speedster had gone so far as to imply that he considered Len a friend.  But the speedster’s caginess and tendency to avoid close quarters were well-known to the other officers on the force.  For the Flash to let the scientists at STAR Labs test their research on him, especially a trap, spoke volumes about how much he must actually trust them. 

To Len’s dismay, he was actually a bit jealous.  “Have you worked with them on any other projects?” he asked, wishing he could be sure that his reasons for asking were purely professional.  There were times when he hated his inconvenient possessive streak. 

The Flash shifted uneasily.  “We’ve worked together before, but why are you asking me about them?  They haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“There have been some developments in the man in yellow’s case that have me worried,” Len settled on replying.  “I want to make sure that STAR Labs isn’t involved, without bringing Harrison Wells into the station for an interview.” 

The Flash snorted.  “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go well.  And the man in yellow – he’s actually called the Reverse-Flash.” 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  “An interesting choice of name.  Did he style himself after you, or was it the other way around?” 

The Flash grimaced.  “He named himself after me, but I have no idea why.  He seems to know a lot more about me than I know about him.” 

That didn’t bode well.  “What does he know about you?” Len pressed. 

“He knows how my powers work, for starters,” the Flash said, looking up at the night sky, “since his work the same way.  He says we have some sort of history, that there’s a reason he hates me, but I’ve never done anything to him in my life.  It’s like he just showed up, and all of a sudden he’s copying my suit, my powers, you name it.” 

“Is it possible that the Reverse-Flash is stalking you?” Len said, thinking back to his own ransacked apartment.  If the Flash had become some sort of fixation for the speedster, it was likely that he was at risk for similar treatment. 

“He’s definitely stalking me,” the Flash said, returning his gaze to Len.  In a smaller voice, he added, “He knows my name.” 

Len felt a wave of adrenaline wash over him.  Somewhere along the way, he’d almost forgotten that the Flash _had_ another name.  Len was used to thinking of the speedster as a complete person, but under the mask there was a civilian with a life that Len knew nothing about.  He had a day job, possibly even a family, and yet he’d managed to keep it entirely under wraps.  For the Reverse-Flash to know the identity of such a secretive, even paranoid, person was chilling.  What else did the yellow-clad speedster know, and how had he learned it? 

But first things first – he needed to reassure the Flash, who was so visibly tense that it was a wonder he hadn’t already bolted from the rooftop.  “I don’t need your name, Scarlet, if that’s what you’re worried about.  It’s none of my business.” 

The Flash started.  “That wasn’t what I was worried about, but – really?  I thought for sure that was going to be your next question.” 

Len shook his head.  “You’re entitled to your privacy, Scarlet.  Your name isn’t important to the case, unless you’re aiding and abetting the Reverse-Flash, which I somehow doubt.” 

“Yeah, no,” the Flash said.  Len noted with satisfaction that there was a hint of a laugh in his voice; apparently he’d said the right thing.  “But seriously – you’re not even a little bit curious?” 

Len shrugged, uncertain as to where this line of inquiry was going.  “Whether you want to tell me or not is your business.  You’re an informant, not a suspect.  I care more about what you know than about who you are.” 

“Oh.”  The Flash rubbed the back of his neck.  “That’s – actually really fair of you.  Okay then.”  He seemed to shake himself before continuing.  “I don’t know how he knows it, but the Reverse-Flash knows my name, and he definitely knows where I work.” 

Len nodded slowly.  “I’m sure you already do, but keep a close eye on your place of residence.  You’re a hard man to pin down, but the Reverse-Flash is more than capable of following you home.” 

The Flash shuddered.  “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised.  But you almost sound like you’re speaking from experience,” he said, giving Len a sharp look.  “Did something happen?” 

Len grimaced inwardly.  The Flash wasn’t going to like this, but he had been helpful tonight, and he _was_ hunting the same monster Len was, even if it wasn’t for the same reasons.  It would be better in the long-term if the speedster knew what he was up against.  “The Reverse-Flash knows where I live, and I’m a fairly private person,” he said.  “If he found me, he can probably find you.” 

The Flash’s eyes widened beneath the cowl.  “Shit.  Shitshitshit,” he said, turning abruptly and pacing across the rooftop.  “I’m guessing your address isn’t publicly available.” 

Len shook his head.  “I rent an apartment, so there aren’t any sales records to trace.  I’ve worked hard to keep my address off of any address-searching websites, and my landlord is discreet.  She only submits renter information as required by law.” 

“And that would probably just be to government agencies,” the Flash said, continuing to pace.  “Or maybe the police, but that doesn’t make any sense considering you _work_ for the police and they already know where you live.  So the best way for the Reverse-Flash to find you would be for him to literally follow you home,” he continued, an edge of satisfaction coming into his voice as he drew his conclusion.  “But he hasn’t made any moves against you, or you wouldn’t be here.” 

“He has,” Len said.  The Flash froze mid-step, and Len took a deep breath before continuing.  “He broke into my apartment and stole evidence from a case of mine involving him, an important case.  And he threatened my sister.” 

The Flash slowly turned to stare at him.  “Let me get this straight,” he said quietly.  “The Reverse-Flash knows where you live.  He’s stolen from you.  He’s threatened your _family._ And you’re _still_ up here talking to me?  Dammit, why?” 

With a blank feeling, Len realized that the Flash was actually angry.  That wasn’t the reaction Len had expected.  “Why wouldn’t I talk to you?” he asked.  “You have information that I need, both for this case and for the case on what happened at STAR Labs.” 

“My information _isn’t worth this,”_ the Flash hissed.  He was angry in a different way than he’d been under Bivolo’s influence, tightly-leashed instead of explosive and volatile.  “If the Reverse-Flash is following me and he sees us together, you and your sister could be in even more danger! I can’t protect you if you’re going to take risks like this!” 

Len’s eyes narrowed.  Angry speedster or not, he couldn’t allow that line of thinking to continue.  “It’s not your responsibility to protect me, Flash.  I’m a cop, and this is my job.  At the end of the day you’re still a civilian, no matter what powers you have.” 

“Bullshit,” the Flash said flatly.  “If I hadn’t shown up at STAR Labs when I did, the Reverse-Flash would have _killed you._ ”

“That doesn’t mean I can quit,” Len retorted.  “Police work isn’t a safe field.  Every cop on the force knows we could die in the line of duty.  I can’t stop now, not while there are people I need to help.” 

The Flash put a hand to his forehead.  “Dammit, Leonard.  I am _begging you_ to stop and think about what you’re doing.  Would the people you’re helping want you to get yourself killed?  Would your sister?”  Len didn’t say anything, and the Flash shook his head.  “I can’t believe this,” he said with a chuckle that sounded despairing even through the distortion in his voice.  “I never would have given you all this information if I thought you were going to do something this stupid.  Have you thought this through at all?” 

“I have,” Len said firmly.  “And I’m not changing my mind.” 

For a long minute, the Flash just stared at him.  When he looked away, Len knew that he had won.  “Fine.  If you’re so determined to endanger your own life, fine.  But what about your sister?” he said, returning his gaze to Len.  “What would she have to say about this?” 

The bottom fell out of Len’s stomach.  Lisa would kill him if she knew how involved he’d managed to become, and he and the Flash both knew it.  And since she’d arrived with the backup at STAR Labs, the Flash already knew that she was affiliated with the police as well.  If he decided to spill the beans, Lisa would be very easy to find. 

Len had to head this off before someone else found a way to leverage his family against him.  The Flash wouldn’t hurt Lisa, but he was getting tired of people immediately latching onto his weak points. 

Abruptly, he thought of Barry blackmailing Tina McGee by using his insider knowledge against her.  The Flash had secrets of his own, and Len would have to use that.  “You may not like my methods, but you at least know you can count on my discretion.  If you run me off this case, I’ll make sure STAR Labs is the first place people start looking.  And they might not be as willing to turn a blind eye.”

He expected the Flash to rage at him, to lash out with more of that tightly controlled anger or even to storm away altogether.  What he didn’t expect was for the Flash to nod, as if he’d been anticipating something of the sort.  “Alright then.  Clearly I can’t stop you.  But you _will not_ move against the Reverse-Flash directly unless I’m there with you,” he said, his voice taking on a steely tone.  “If you’re going to fight him, we do it together.  And if I find out you’ve done anything stupid, endangered yourself in order to get fast results, _anything,_ I’m getting your sister involved, and anyone else who I think has a chance of stopping you.  Damn the consequences.” 

It was a good counter-move, considering the Flash’s limited options.  Len wasn’t sure how exactly the speedster was planning to keep tabs on his work-related activities, but he didn’t think the Flash would make the threat if he didn’t have some way of carrying it out.  “Then it sounds to me like we have a deal, Scarlet,” he said, holding out a hand.  Better to accept this truce than to continue going in circles, since neither of them seemed willing to give in.  And a guaranteed offer of help, should things come to a fight, was reassuring, even if it came with strings attached.  “You let me do my job, and I’ll tell you when I know more.” 

The Flash stepped forward and shook his offered hand.  “That’s what we’ll do.  I know we both just blackmailed the shit out of each other, but at least we’re on the same page,” he said ruefully, releasing Len’s hand and taking a step back.  “I don’t want to fight you.” 

Len nodded.  “The feeling’s mutual, kid.  I’d rather have you with me than against me.”  Against something like the Reverse-Flash, he’d need all the allies he could get. 

The Flash walked toward the edge of the roof, and Len sensed that their meeting was over.  “One last thing,” he called, and the Flash halted.  “The tachyon prototype was stolen from Mercury Labs sometime today.  Jury’s still out on who did it.” 

The Flash’s shoulders sagged.  “Fuck.  Well this night just keeps getting better.  Did the Reverse-Flash steal it?” 

“We don’t know,” Len said.  “We don’t have any leads.  Whoever stole it didn’t show up on security cameras.”  He saw that the Flash’s hands had curled themselves into fists.  “You gonna be alright, kid?” 

“What?  Yeah,” the Flash said, his voice distant.  “I’ll be fine.  Thanks for telling me.”  Before he dashed off to wherever he lived when he wasn’t running through the city at night, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Len.  “You’re a good man, Leonard.  Please don’t let all of this bullshit get you killed.” 

He sounded sad, and scared.  Len wished it was possible for him to reassure the speedster that everything would be fine, but empty promises were their own kind of lie.  “I’ll do my best,” he said instead.  “And it’s Len, kid, not Leonard.  Take care of yourself, Scarlet.” 

* * *

Barry really was getting better at telling bald-faced lies to Leonard Snart, because there was no part of what he was feeling that could be described as _fine._

He ran fast enough and far enough that Len couldn’t track him before scaling a tall building and sitting on the rooftop, yanking the cowl from face.  He wasn’t sure he could handle the conversation that would ensue back at STAR Labs if he ended up getting tearstains on the tripolymer. 

Barry lay down on his back and looked up at the stars, wondering where to even begin. 

Easy stuff first – Len had been hiding things from him.  Barry couldn’t exactly fault him for that, especially when he had so many secrets of his own.  But the secrets he was hiding were huge, dangerous secrets that had the potential to get him killed.  If Barry hadn’t kept his identity a secret from Len all this time, would he ever have known how bad things had gotten with the Reverse-Flash?  Would Len still have hidden things from him in order to keep him safe, the way he was hiding things from Lisa?

That was another thing.  The Len that Barry knew would _never_ have let a case jeopardize Lisa’s safety.  He’d allowed himself to be taken hostage by an armed gunman rather than risk him hurting Lisa.  But now that they were up against something even more dangerous – a speedster faster than the Flash, with an information network of unknown scope and a demonstrated willingness to kill anyone who got in his way, Len didn’t seem worried about the threat to Lisa’s safety.  He wasn’t letting it slow him down at all.  He hadn’t even _told her_ that his apartment had been broken into – if anything, he was forging on ahead more doggedly than ever. 

Barry didn’t understand it, and it scared him.  Why was Len treating this case differently than he had all the others he’d taken on since Barry had met him? 

And at the end of the day, all of this was really Barry’s fault.  Len would have found a way to get involved in the case regardless, but Barry was the one who had asked Len for help with his father’s case in the first place.  Now he was so embroiled in this mess that it might cost him his life.

What would Barry do if something happened to him? 

Barry’s heart squeezed in his chest, and he was unsurprised when his view of the stars above him grew blurry.  He pulled off one of his gloves and shakily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.  Dammit, he couldn’t do this now.  He had to think through the rest of the stuff Len had told him before he could let himself start crying – because once he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. 

He forced himself to take deep breaths until the gripping sensation in his chest began to loosen, and his hands stopped trembling.  _There.  You’ve got this,_ he told himself.  _Now what else did Len say?_

The main piece of absolutely god-fucking-awful news, of course, was that the tachyon prototype had been stolen.  Barry wondered when Len had found out.  It was probably a good thing that he hadn’t sprung that particular tidbit of bad news on him in the middle of the holiday party, since he’d had enough on his plate already between playing host and finding his missing foster father hiding in the bushes. 

But something about this wasn’t adding up.  If the Reverse-Flash could have stolen the prototype that easily, why hadn’t he just taken it the first time he’d gone to Mercury Labs?  Instead of getting what he came for, he had essentially killed two people, given the scientist in the vault a scary look, and left.  And now Len was telling him that the Reverse-Flash hadn’t even been caught on camera during the theft? 

The more Barry thought about it, the stranger this seemed.  Why would the Reverse-Flash have fallen for their trap when he could have stolen the tachyon prototype from Mercury Labs? 

But he hadn’t stolen the prototype from Mercury Labs – not until he’d tried to steal it from STAR Labs, and failed. 

Barry’s heart began to race.  The Reverse-Flash was terrifying and undoubtedly dangerous, but he was also a showoff.  He did things for dramatic effect.  Barry had seen it himself when he’d allowed the Reverse-Flash to lure him into that travesty of a fight at the football stadium – he’d kicked Barry’s ass and left him there shaking when he could just as easily have killed him then and there.  It wasn’t much of a stretch to guess that the Reverse-Flash might have been trying to do something similar at Mercury Labs – establish himself as a lethal and ominous threat, and then cement that reputation by stealing the tachyon prototype right out from under their noses. 

Barry sat up, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he thought about the implications of that.  It was unlikely that the Reverse-Flash had acted opportunistically by allowing himself to be trapped, if only for a brief time, and that meant that he’d come to STAR Labs with a plan. 

And for the Reverse-Flash to have had a plan, he would have had to know about the trap in the first place, and figured out a way to sabotage it. 

Barry thought about the conflicting evidence Cisco had seen on his monitors – according to the engineer, the trap _should_ have been working, even when it had flickered off and allowed the Reverse-Flash to grab Dr. Wells.  If the Reverse-Flash had known about the trap, maybe he’d been able to figure out a weakness that the STAR Labs team hadn’t been able to spot. 

Regardless of what had actually happened, the data all pointed to _something_ happening at STAR Labs.  The only question was what it was – and if there was any evidence left to find.   

Barry pushed himself to his feet.  He had to know for sure, or he’d be awake all night wondering.  If that meant braving STAR Labs after dark, so be it. 

As he moved through the silent halls of the STAR Labs basement, Barry was relieved that the motion-sensitive lights were still working on this level.  Dr. Wells and Cisco must have left them on after the trap incident – not a big surprise, considering how crazy things had gotten since then, but definitely a blessing.  STAR Labs was creepy at night on the best of days – when Barry was already feeling paranoid and on-edge, the place would have been downright terrifying.  

Barry entered the trap room cautiously, glancing around for any lingering signs of danger before approaching the trap itself.  A quick inspection of its exterior showed superficial damage from Len’s fight against the Reverse-Flash, mostly burned-out circuits – nothing to suggest that any tampering had taken place. 

Gritting his teeth, Barry stepped gingerly onto the dais in the center of the trap.  He wasn’t entirely convinced that the thing wouldn’t suddenly spring to life and trap him inside, but it didn’t seem like anything of the sort was going to happen this time.  Barry touched the pedestal where the tachyon prototype had been sitting.  He’d kept the promise he’d made to himself when he’d blackmailed Dr. McGee and ensured that her prototype was safely returned, but at the end of the day it had all been for nothing. 

His search of the trap was hampered by the fact that he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for.  If there was some sort of disruptor that would temporarily block the field, it made sense for the trigger to be located inside the trap, where the Reverse-Flash would have been able to reach it.  But the trap had been scrubbed within an inch of its life by the researchers from Mercury Labs – Barry had seen the security footage of the trap room before the Reverse-Flash had shown up.  If there had been any sabotage on the trap itself, it would have to be minute enough that an entire team of researchers had overlooked it.  If they’d failed to see it, Barry stood little chance of finding it on his own. 

His gaze landed on the generator that had powered the trap, and he frowned thoughtfully.  Cisco’s bizarre energy readings had come from the generator, not the trap.  And as a fairly standard piece of tech, it was less likely to be the focus of the researchers’ attention.  Any sabotage there might have had an easier time going undetected. 

Barry approached the generator and ran his fingers over the metal housing.  The officers had really done a number on it when they wrecked it in order to get Dr. Wells out.  It was entirely possible that any evidence had been destroyed as well. 

Barry let out a huff of frustration, curling his fingers around the edge of a piece of metal – and then his eyes widened as he felt something give way beneath his fingers. 

He removed his hand slowly, feeling whatever he’d touched rise beneath his fingers as he moved them away.  It was definitely some sort of button. 

When he allowed his hand to fall, Barry heard a whir of machinery come from the trap behind him.  He turned – and his heart stopped beating when he saw that the Reverse-Flash was standing inside it. 

For a suspended, hideous second, Barry was too terrified to scream.  Then, as his brain caught up with his racing adrenaline, he realized that something about this wasn’t quite right.  The Reverse-Flash was just… standing there.  He wasn’t lunging at Barry, or even looking at him.  And that warped thrumming of energy that Barry had sensed the last time he and the Reverse-Flash had come face to face wasn’t there either. 

Feeling like his heart was about to beat out of its chest, Barry slowly approached the dais.  The Reverse-Flash still didn’t move.  Finally, Barry extended a hand and swiped it at the Reverse-Flash’s leg. 

Instead of impacting against tripolymer, Barry’s hand passed straight through him.  He gasped.  _A hologram,_ he realized, swiping his hand through the image again.  _A hologram so lifelike that it could carry on a conversation.  It responded to Dr. Wells like a real person, but it was a hologram the entire time._

So the Reverse-Flash had outsmarted them all.  He’d somehow managed to bug the trap, incorporating a lifelike hologram of himself to distract everyone until the right moment.  He hadn’t had to escape from the trap to grab Dr. Wells because he’d never been inside the trap in the first place.  The implantation of the hologram probably explained the bugs in the energy readouts that Cisco had noticed.  The hologram might have been drawing power from the trap directly, or other codes and feedback loops could have been introduced as executable subroutines to disrupt the trap’s systems at the same time the hologram was installed. 

But one question still remained.  How had the Reverse-Flash managed to get something this big into the trap’s software in the first place? 

Barry’s hands began to shake as he ran through the list of possible scenarios.  None of them looked good.  The first scenario that sprang to mind – that the Reverse-Flash had infiltrated Mercury Labs’ staffing and planted the bug during the workday – was possible, but far-fetched.  There had been plenty of opportunities for him to accomplish his goal of stealing the prototype from STAR Labs without resorting to something that messy and convoluted. 

The second was that he’d somehow coerced a Mercury Labs employee into planting the bug.  That made a lot more sense, and from what Len had told him Barry knew that the Reverse-Flash would gladly threaten loved ones in order to gain leverage.  But embedding a program that deep would require more thorough knowledge of STAR Labs’ computer systems than a random Mercury Labs employee was likely to have, especially one who wasn’t a programmer. 

Which, of course, led Barry to the one scenario that he wanted to avoid thinking about altogether – that somebody at STAR Labs had planted the hologram and allowed the Reverse-Flash to go free.  But Barry couldn’t accept that.  The remaining STAR Labs employees were his team.  They were his _friends._ They’d never do that to him. 

But they would have the easiest access to STAR Labs’ systems.  If the Reverse-Flash was able to figure out Leonard Snart’s weak points, who was to say that he couldn’t have found something on Barry’s friends?  It would only take one piece of blackmail applied to the right place to bring the whole plan crashing down around their ears. 

How much did Barry really know about the people who worked at STAR Labs?  They’d saved his life, so of course he trusted them, and they’d proven themselves to him time and time again.  But they didn’t have to _want_ to betray him in order to be forced into it.  What weak points could they be concealing that could be used against them? 

Barry dragged a hand over his face.  He couldn’t start thinking like this, looking for monsters on every street corner.  Once he started doubting his team, there was no going back.  He had to trust them – he _needed_ them, and he needed STAR Labs.  He couldn’t be the Flash without them.  He’d be alone again. 

With an effort of will, Barry wrenched himself away from that line of thinking.  He had no way of knowing for sure how the Reverse-Flash had compromised the trap, but the important thing was that it had been done, somehow.  The Reverse-Flash had hacked STAR Labs, and that meant that STAR Labs was no longer safe. 

Barry wanted to scream at the prospect of being taken down the rabbit hole of paranoia and suspicion again.  He’d been doing so _well,_ and he could already feel the shock of this moment bringing all kinds of old patterns to the surface.  He’d stuck around the therapists after his mom died long enough to hear _PTSD_ thrown around, and he knew it could make a resurgence.  Sometimes when things did get really bad, he’d end back up drowning in that feeling of terrified impermanence, waiting for something to come back along and rip the world out from under his feet again.  He couldn’t fall if he was vigilant, waiting to catch hold of something and haul himself back over the edge, but the cure was worse than the disease, and the paranoid thoughts that grabbed at him were about things that wouldn’t ever happen. 

But what was he going to do now that the threat was real?  His instinctive knee-jerk reaction was always to defend himself from the threat, but over the years he’d learned that the situations he imagined were never as bad as they turned out to be.  He was good at rationalizing himself out of that place, and he was proud of how hard he’d worked to get there.  But his coping mechanisms had never been tested in the wake of an actual, viable threat, and now Barry was terrified. 

The man who’d killed his mother was back in town.  He’d killed more people and stolen a piece of technology that had the potential to make him even faster and more powerful than he already was.  He was spying on people.  He’d threatened Barry’s friends.  And now he’d compromised Barry’s base of operations. 

It was infinitely harder to dismiss his paranoia as irrelevant when there really was someone out to get him. 

But he couldn’t just lie down and give up – he had to _do something._ He had to take back some measure of control, and if that meant figuring out _how_ the Reverse-Flash had gained so much sway over Barry’s life, that was what he would have to do. 

Until he figured it out, Barry had to assume that ever place he’d visited, and every person he’d worked with, could potentially be compromised.  Once he started removing probable avenues of infiltration, he could start figuring out where the real leak was coming from – and figure out how to plug it.  As much as it fucking sucked, his hypervigilance would actually be sort of useful for a change instead of just getting in his way. 

Barry looked down at the suit he was wearing, and bit his lip.  He couldn’t be the Flash without his suit, and not just because he had a brand to maintain.  The bio-monitoring systems and comms were absolutely critical on dangerous missions, and they’d saved his life before.  Ditching the suit would be too dangerous – and worse, to Barry at least, it would represent a true loss of faith in his team, instead of an upswing in pragmatic caution.  STAR Labs might not be safe anymore, but he had to at least hold onto the fact that Cisco, Caitlin, and Dr. Wells loved him and would never willingly hurt him if he was going to get through this. 

That being said, Barry already knew for certain that there was a GPS locator in his suit.  It was how his team monitored his whereabouts and fed him the information he needed – but if the Reverse-Flash had hacked their systems, it was entirely possible that he was using it to keep tabs on Barry as well. 

Cisco was the one that Barry needed to clear most urgently.  He was the only real tech support that Barry had, unless he was willing to risk endangering Felicity, which – no.  Once Barry made sure that the Reverse-Flash wasn’t holding anything over Cisco, he could ask the engineer to make some tweaks to the tracking software.  Removing the GPS entirely wouldn’t be safe, and it would definitely look suspicious.  Barry didn’t want the Reverse-Flash to know that he was onto him.  But if he could make sure the GPS data wasn’t archived on STAR Labs’ servers, it would be much harder for the Reverse-Flash to use it to keep tabs on him. 

At some point, Barry would also probably want a second suit for his own use, since he wasn’t about to burn up his civilian wardrobe by running in his street clothes every time he wanted to avoid worrying about surveillance.  But that could wait for the time being.  The most important thing was to make sure that the Reverse-Flash couldn’t track him, or anyone else. 

Although – come to think of it, Barry wasn’t the only one whose whereabouts were being tracked by STAR Labs.  The panic button he’d given Bette sans Souci had GPS functionality built in – and it could be remotely activated, thanks to the way he and Cisco had designed it.  But Bette hadn’t done anything to threaten Central City since they’d seen her off several months ago.  There hadn’t been so much as a whisper about her in months, and she definitely hadn’t caused any trouble.  Barry needed to find her and warn her, before the Reverse-Flash tracked her down and beat a path to her door himself. 

His mind made up, Barry turned off the hologram and made sure there was nothing out of place in the trap room before making a dash for the Cortex.  He logged into the computer using his own credentials and dug through the programs until he found the tracker for Bette’s emergency locator. 

His finger hovered over the mouse, and he bit his lip.  As soon as this thing went live, Bette would instantly become a hundred times more visible to anyone who was watching, including the Reverse-Flash.  If he wanted to keep the other speedster from finding her, he’d have to move fast. 

Before activating the signal, Barry changed out of his Flash suit and into the change of civilian clothes he kept at the lab.  He didn’t want the Reverse-Flash to follow his suit straight to Bette, and if that meant burning a few holes in his shoes, so be it. 

When he’d finished changing, Barry grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and clicked the button to activate the tracker. 

The program went live in seconds, lighting up with a blipping blue dot that quickly zoomed in on an exact location.  To Barry’s relief, Bette seemed to be somewhere in Keystone City.  She hadn’t gone very far, which would make getting to her quickly much easier than it would have been if she’d gone to Starling City or Gotham. 

Barry scribbled down the GPS coordinates and the nearest address before wiping as much of his presence from the computer as he could and logging off.  He wasn’t much of a hacker, but unless somebody really went digging, they shouldn’t be able to tell that Barry had logged on.  He wished he dared to delete the program entirely, but for all he knew that could trigger some sort of system alert and make everything worse.  Hopefully this would be enough to cover his tracks. 

The run to Keystone was short, but it helped Barry clear his head a little, enough to begin thinking over his approach.  Wherever Bette was staying, he was willing to bet that she wouldn’t be too keen on him showing up out of nowhere.  He was going to have to explain himself quickly, before he completely freaked her out.  Of course, he was also going to have to make sure that no random passerby could tell what he and Bette were talking about, since Bette was probably on several government watch lists and he had a secret identity to protect. 

Barry didn’t want to risk using the GPS on his phone to find Bette’s address, just in case it stayed in his list of searched locations – probably overly paranoid, but he was still uncertain as to how careful he needed to be, so he’d let it slide this time.  Either way, he’d been to Keystone city enough times on fast food errands that he knew his way around, and doing a grid search to find a specific street name was easy when you ran at six hundred miles an hour. 

Barry skidded to a stop at the address the STAR Labs tracker had given him, looking up at the building in surprise.  It was a small, well-maintained townhouse, packed closely together with several similar homes.  He wasn’t sure why he’d been expecting to find Bette somewhere else – she hadn’t struck Barry as much of a partier, so of course she’d be at home now that it was going on two in the morning. 

Maybe it was because the last time he’d seen Bette, she’d been staying in someone else’s house.  Now it seemed she had a home of her own. 

Hopefully, as long as this encounter went well, she’d get to keep it. 

Barry climbed the stairs to the front porch, rang the doorbell, took a deep breath, and waited. 

When the door opened, Barry’s stomach sank when it wasn’t to the person he was expecting to see.  A short, blonde-haired girl looked up at him, removing one headphone from her ear.  “Are you the pizza guy?” she asked. 

Barry spluttered.  “What?  Uh – I’m not the pizza guy.  I actually think I might have the wrong house.”  His mind raced.  Had he written down the wrong address in his hurry to get out of STAR Labs? 

“What’s all the commotion?” said another, more familiar voice, and Barry’s heart started beating again when he saw Bette come around the door.  

“Hey,” Barry said, giving her an awkward wave when she stared at him in puzzlement.  It suddenly dawned on Barry that Bette had never seen his face without the mask on, a move that had been born from justified caution at the time but that now had the potential to make things _very_ awkward. “It's me - from back in Central?" he added, hoping the context of a location would help Bette place his voice. "I know it's been a while, but do you mind if I come in?” 

Bette's eyes widened in recognition, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief that she'd recognized him.  It saved an explanation that would have gotten complicated with an audience. “Of course you can come in,” she said, turning back to look at the other girl.  “Rachel, this is my friend… Gus,” she said.  “We were in the army together.  Gus, meet Rachel.” 

Rachel nodded, looking him up and down appraisingly.  “You don’t _look_ like a military guy.  You hiding some muscles under that button-down?” 

“I was mostly tech support,” Barry said hastily.  He wasn’t sure where that interested look was going, but he was sure it wasn’t anywhere that boded well for him.  “I – repaired the airplanes.” 

Bette shot him a withering look over Rachel’s head before gesturing for him to come inside.  “We can chat in my room.  Rachel was just about to get back to studying, right?” she said, shooting the younger girl a look. 

Rachel nodded.  “Right, boss.  Don’t let me interrupt your night,” she said, giving her and Barry a suggestive look before disappearing back into the house. 

Bette sighed and motioned for Barry to follow her upstairs.  

“This had better be good, Flash,” she said without preamble when Barry closed the door behind them.  “I’ve been staying off the radar, doing my best to live as a civilian.  Why are you here?” 

“I’m really sorry to barge in like this, but it’s an emergency,” Barry said, grimacing.  At least Bette seemed willing to hear him out so far.  “Do you still have the emergency locator I gave you?” 

“I kept it just in case Eiling ever came calling,” Bette said, reaching into her bedside table and pulling out the familiar button.  “Luckily I’ve never needed it.  Why are you here for it?” 

“I promise I’ll explain everything, but I need to destroy it right away,” Barry said.  “Can I have it?” 

Bette handed it over, her expression beginning to take on traces of alarm.  Barry gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before closing his fist around the button and vibrating his hand until the small piece of tech shattered. 

With the threat gone, Barry was finally able to take a deep breath.  “Thank god.  The locator I gave you had a second function that I didn’t tell you about,” he said, looking up at Bette.  “We were worried about letting you go, so we worked in a program that would let us track you if we ever thought you were active in Central again.  We’ve never used it until now, but I just found out that STAR Labs has been hacked and I needed to make sure the person responsible couldn’t find you.  I’m sorry,” he said when Bette continued to stare at him silently.  “If you’re pissed at me and want me to leave, I’ll go – I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t in danger because of something we’d done.” 

Bette nodded slowly.  “I wondered if there was something extra worked into it,” she said.  “It’s what I would have done in your situation.  At the end of the day it seemed worth the risk, and it looks like I was right.  This hacking, how bad is it?” 

“I don’t know,” Barry admitted, dropping onto the sofa by the far wall.  He was relieved that Bette didn’t seem to be pissed at him – she wasn’t kicking him out, and that was something at least.  “I think I know who’s responsible, but I have no idea how he was able to get into our mainframe.  It’s going to take a ton of work to make sure he doesn’t get ahold of anything he can use.  I’m not entirely sure who I can trust anymore,” he confessed.  “I’m sorry I barged in like this, but I had no other way of warning you that you might be in danger.” 

“Since this hacker managed to get the jump on STAR Labs, I appreciate the warning,” Bette said, smiling faintly.  “What do you know about him so far?” 

“Mainly that he’s a speedster like me, and that he’s got no qualms about killing people or resorting to blackmail to get what he wants,” Barry said.  He didn’t want to dump too much information on Bette all at once, but it was a relief to be able to talk about the situation with someone who was mostly removed from it.  “He’s called the Reverse-Flash.  I think he has an information network – either that, or he’s the best intelligence-gatherer I’ve ever heard of.  He’s only been in town for a few days and he’s already got us running in circles.” 

Bette’s expression had grown progressively more thoughtful throughout Barry’s explanation, and when he finished speaking she nodded slowly.  “I don’t suppose this would be a good time to let you know that I’ve been thinking about coming back to Central City.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Why?  The last time you were in Central, you were hunted down by a power-hungry general who wanted to use you as a human experiment, and then STAR Labs kicked you out on your ass.” 

“Which was the right thing to do,” Bette argued.  “I wasn’t exactly in the best place at the time.  I was trying to kill General Eiling, and I wasn’t too worried about any collateral damage I happened to cause.  If anything, you should be trying to keep me from coming back, not apologizing for encouraging me to leave in the first place.” 

“I’m not gonna,” Barry said bluntly.  “I have way too much on my plate to worry about where you decide you want to live, and as long as you don’t decide to try and kill anyone again, neither will anybody else.  But I still don’t understand why you want to come back right now.  With a murderous speedster on the loose, shouldn’t you be trying to stay _away_ from Central?” 

Bette hesitated.  “Since moving to Keystone, I’ve been going by the name Jane Conway,” she said.  “I’ve been flying under the radar, doing everything I can to avoid drawing attention to myself.  The girl I’m rooming with, Rachel, is a student at the local university, and she thinks I’m a reclusive writer who really likes to wear gloves,” she said, holding up her hands.  “It’s a fine life, but it’s too quiet for me.  The thing I liked most about the military was feeling like I was part of something bigger than I was.  And from what you just told me, it sounds like you need more people on your side,” she said, her expression growing faintly nervous.  “People you trust.” 

“I do trust you,” Barry said, a bit surprised to realize that he meant it.  Bette had never pretended to be anything other than who she was, and she’d always been good at owning up to her mistakes.  “But I can’t let you throw yourself into the line of fire for me just because you’re spoiling for a cause.  The guy we’re up against is too dangerous, and he’s already threatened too many of my people.” 

Bette nodded.  “I’m not suggesting I help you fight him,” she said.  “I don’t have the right powers for that.  But if your enemy speedster has a network, and has managed to compromise STAR Labs, won’t you need people on the outside?” 

Barry’s eyes widened as he realized what Bette was suggesting.  “You’re talking about counterintelligence.  Ferreting out the Reverse-Flash’s network until he isn’t able to spy on us anymore might force him to come at us directly.  We’d stand a better chance in a fight like that.” 

“That’s the idea,” Bette said.  “I can’t promise I’ll be good for much, but if I’m in the neighborhood anyway, I can always be an extra pair of ears.” 

Barry bit his lip.  “Okay.  Let’s do it.  As long as you promise me that you won’t go getting in over your head,” he said, thinking of Len.  “I’ve got enough people in danger already.” 

“It sounds like there’s a story there,” Bette said, her expression turning sympathetic.  “I won’t pry, but if you want to talk about it in the morning you can tell me.” 

“Maybe I will – wait, in the morning?” Barry said, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. 

“You look like you’re dead on your feet,” Bette said.  “No offense.  And I’ve been told my sofa’s comfortable.  Rachel’s already convinced you’re my secret boyfriend, and that terrible lie you told about working in aircraft maintenance didn’t help your case,” Bette said, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“Rachel put me on the spot!” Barry protested.  “And you’d just called me _Gus._ That’s like, the worst fake name I’ve ever heard.” 

Bette’s lips twitched.  “I had a dog named Gus when I was a kid.  And besides, I couldn’t exactly call you Flash.” 

“You can call me Barry,” said Barry.  “If we’re really going to do this, you should at least get to use my name.” 

For a second, Bette’s face lit up with a small but genuine smile.  “Thanks.  I’m serious about you needing sleep, by the way," she said, her expression becoming more serious once again.  "The couch is there if you want to crash.  There’s no shame in feeling like you want someone on guard,” she said, her voice softening slightly.  “I get it.” 

Barry hesitated, torn between wanting to hide his vulnerability and his increasingly-desperate need for sleep.  It really _was_ late.  He’d probably wake Caitlin up if he went back to her apartment at this point.  “I don’t want to intrude,” he said, trying not to look like he was fighting to keep his eyes open. 

“I’ll wake you up before ten,” Bette said.  “Unless you have work tomorrow.” 

“I don’t,” Barry said.  Thank god he had the day off – after dealing with Martin, then Len, and then getting tangled in the Reverse-Flash’s web of secrets, he was at the absolute end of his tether.  If he’d had to go into the station, he probably would have had a breakdown on the spot.  “But thanks.  I’ll let my housemate know I’m not coming back tonight.” 

While Bette left the room to search for a spare toothbrush, Barry pulled out his phone and sent Caitlin a text.  _Cleaning up afterward wiped me out.  I’m staying at Clarissa’s tonight._

Barry put his phone away and took a deep breath, wondering how the hell things had taken a turn this quickly.  It was ironic that the first thing he’d had to do, after having his faith shaken so deeply, was put his trust in someone new. 

But if that was what it took to start fixing things, Barry decided, he would do it again in a heartbeat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! End of part 1. I've done most of the work on my outline that I needed to do before starting the part 2 chapters, so I'm hoping to get the next chapter out to you sooner rather than later. Hopefully my update lengths will start going back to normal too; I love churning out giant chapters, but the smaller updates are a bit easier for me to manage. I had new ideas for stuff that I want to include in part 2 while I was writing this chapter, though, so I'm gonna make sure I take enough time to get everything lined up before I start writing the next set of updates. 
> 
> In case anyone wanted to know what mood music I looped endlessly while writing this chapter, my song of choice this time was "Say (All I Need)" by OneRepublic. 
> 
> This is the first chapter where I've ever put a content warning in the author's note, so I also just wanted to take the opportunity to let you all know that if there's anything specific that you'd like me to warn/tag for in the future, I will do my best to make sure that I do so. I want as many people as possible to be able to enjoy this fic, and if a specific content warning will ever make that more possible for you, please let me know. You can mention it in a comment, or you can send me an ask on my Tumblr; my url there is also cardinalstar. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading - both this chapter and this fic - and I hope you enjoyed the update! It really was a joy to write.


	27. Ring In The New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's good to be back! It turns out that I'm not very good at taking hiatuses - I've been picking intermittently at this chapter ever since I finished writing the last one. But I told myself that I wouldn't start posting again until I finished overhauling my outline, and I've finally finished! So here's a new chapter to start the weekend off right. 
> 
> Having a new season of The Flash has been an extra boost in motivation! I'm enjoying the new episodes a lot - Season 3 was good, but I'm happy to see the show returning to a bit of the lighter, funnier vibe that Season 1 had. For those of you who are still watching the show, I hope you're getting what you want out of the new season too! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left comments on the last chapter! Your reviews spurred me on through the hiatus, and they definitely inspired me to write this update. Now that the plot's kicking into higher gear, chapters are getting easier and easier for me to write, but the feedback I'm getting from you all is always motivational. <3

“Well, Mick?” Len said as he slid onto the barstool beside his best friend.  “Any last thoughts on the year 2014 before we turn in our calendars?” 

“This bar has shitty drink specials on New Years’ Eve,” Mick said, glowering at the bartender, whose back was fortunately turned.  “You sure you can’t make an arrest tonight?” 

Len shook his head.  “I’m off the clock.” 

“Pity.”  Mick ran a finger along the side of his pint glass and frowned when it came away dry.  “No condensation.  That means warm beer.” 

“Some beers are better warm,” Len countered, pulling his own pint towards himself.  In spite of himself, he was amused by Mick’s pique.  The bar in question, a place called Saints and Sinners, wasn’t somewhere Len had ever visited, but it was on Mick’s side of town.  When Mick had invited him out, Len assumed it was to a bar his best friend knew well.  Apparently that wasn’t the case. 

Mick shot him a look.  “We’re not in England, Lenny,” he rumbled.  “And this is a lager.  They’re supposed to be cold.” 

Len shrugged, conceding the point.  “Fair,” he said, glancing around the crowded bar to ensure nobody was observing too closely before removing his gloves.  Central City had become more used to metas in the months since the accelerator explosion, but he still didn’t want to cause a scene.  He wrapped one hand around Mick’s glass and one around his own, focusing his powers until the clear glass had frosted over. 

Mick nodded approvingly, pulling his mug back over and taking a sip.  “Neat trick.” 

“You could do it yourself, you know,” Len pointed out. 

Mick shook his head.  “I don’t have that kind of control,” he said.  “I’d probably just melt the glass.” 

Len pulled his gloves back on and flexed his fingers, enjoying the warmth as the therma-threading in the fabric heated up in response to his cold skin.  “That’s true.  And getting kicked out of a bar on New Year’s Eve would be just criminal.” 

Mick nodded.  “If we’re gonna get kicked out, it should be over something good,” he said, which Len didn’t find particularly comforting.  “What’s with the gloves?” he said, changing the subject with a nod at Len’s hands.  “Thought you didn’t need those anymore.” 

“I don’t _need_ them,” Len said, shrugging one shoulder.  “But I like them.  They were a gift.” 

“Ah.”  Mick nodded, comprehension dawning in his eyes.  That didn’t bode well for Len.  “They’re from your boy, right?  You gonna do anything about that next year?  Or are you gonna keep moping?” 

Len took a long sip of his drink, stalling for time while he tried to work out how to start unpacking _that_ particular series of statements.  “He’s twenty-five,” he said, putting the glass back down on the counter with slightly more force than was necessary.  “I do not mope _._ And he definitely isn’t mine.” 

Mick raised an eyebrow.  “Doesn’t mean you don’t want him to be.” 

Len took another drink, because damn if Mick didn’t have him there. 

It had been just over a week since the holiday party at the Steins’ house, and Len had yet to get a handle on his realization that he had feelings for Barry.  It wasn’t for lack of effort, or time.  The holiday hours had played havoc with everyone’s schedules, thanks to officers who were taking time off to visit their families elsewhere in the country.  Since the only blood relative Len cared about was working under the same roof as he was, he hadn’t minded picking up some extra shifts, especially since things around Central had been almost eerily quiet. 

Of course, a consequence of the longer hours was that he was now spending more time around the station, leaving him with ample opportunity to contemplate the mess he’d found himself in.  Now that he’d realized his feelings for Barry were more than platonic, it seemed like the universe was conspiring to embarrass him.  He was doing his best not to act differently when the CSI was around, but he’d seen West and Thawne shooting concerned looks in his direction when they’d thought he wasn’t watching, so clearly people were beginning to notice that _something_ was up. 

Even worse, Lisa had immediately noticed his _moping,_ as Mick put it, and had taken the universe’s side to help ruin his life.  She kept sending extra things up to Barry’s lab for analysis, and sending Len to retrieve them whenever the tests were done.  Inevitably, picking up something from Barry’s lab meant making small talk with its resident CSI.  This also meant that Len had to do his best to avoid reacting whenever Barry said something amusing or interesting, which was next to impossible seeing as it seemed to happen _all the time._

It was pathetic, and it was even worse because Len had nothing to distract him.  He hadn’t seen the Flash since their conversation on the Jitters rooftop, and there had been no new leads on the Reverse-Flash or the tachyon prototype.  He’d even dug back into the Bivolo case, more out of desperation for something to do than because he thought anything new would turn up.  He’d still been disappointed when the trail remained as cold as ever.  Bivolo had vanished into the night like a ghost, and there had been next to no metahuman activity to take his place. 

Len never thought he’d miss having trouble in his city, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. 

He saw Mick looking at him out of the corner of his eye and realized he’d been silent for too long.  “It isn’t that simple,” he said, turning back to his best friend. 

“Of course it is,” Mick said, frowning.  “If you want him, go and get him.  Worst he can do is tell you no.” 

“He could file harassment charges,” Len said darkly.  “Since we work together.” 

Mick’s eyebrows rose.  “You think the kid would do that?” 

“No,” Len sighed.  “But if he’s not interested, I’ll have pushed the boundaries of our friendship for nothing.” 

The heart of the matter was that Len wasn’t sure enough of Barry’s feelings to be willing to take the risk, even though he was becoming increasingly certain that his attraction to the CSI wasn’t some passing fancy.  And there were signs that Barry might possibly return Len’s interest, at least to some degree.  Nothing overt, just small hints – stammering, knocking things over, acting flustered, that sort of thing.  But it wasn’t enough evidence for Len to draw a conclusion, especially since he could be reading too much into Barry’s behavior.  He was personally invested, which meant he might be projecting and noticing signs that weren’t really there.  If Len pushed things too far and made Barry uncomfortable, it might permanently change their friendship, in a bad way. 

Besides, Len was worried about Barry.  It had been subtle, but there had been something off about him since the night of the holiday party.  He didn’t smile as much, and he carried himself stiffly, as if he was constantly bracing himself for something bad to happen.  It reminded Len of how on-edge the CSI had been when he’d first moved to Central City, and he didn’t like it. 

Len wanted to touch base and ask Barry what was wrong, but it seemed like a moot point given the situation with the Reverse-Flash.  It wasn’t like the kid didn’t have enough reasons to be stressed, since his mother’s killer was on the loose and they were no closer to finding him.  Len had wrestled with whether or not to tell Barry about the theft of the tachyon prototype from Mercury Labs, but had ultimately decided to wait until he had more concrete information to give him.  He had a feeling that _by the way, an invisible man stole the thing your mom’s murderer seems to want most_ wouldn’t go over too well. 

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to make a move,” Mick suggested, snapping Len back to their present conversation.  “You’re older than him.  Could be he isn’t sure you’d go for someone his age.” 

Len grimaced.  “If anything, I should be the one who’s worried.  I have gray hair, Mick.” 

“It makes you look distinguished,” Mick argued.  “The whole ‘silver fox’ thing.  And you aren’t much older than him.” 

Len shot his best friend a look.  “Mick, I am forty-two years old.” 

“So?  You’re not dead yet,” said Mick with a philosophical shrug.  “And you’ve clearly still got plenty of fight left in you.” 

“What’s the point of this conversation, exactly?” Len said, trying not to snap but sorely tempted. 

“The _point_ is, you say you can’t go after him.  You’ve said why.  But you don’t really care about any of that,” Mick said, giving Len a satisfied look over the rim of his pintglass.  “If you did care, you’d have found a way to nip this in the bud as soon as you realized you wanted him in the first place.”

Len stared at Mick in silence, unable to come up with a rebuttal, until his best friend finally seemed to take pity on him.  “Lenny.  I’m your wingman.  Sometimes that means waving some pretty piece over and seeing if you take an interest.  This time, it means saving you from yourself before you do something really stupid.” 

Len’s fingers twitched on his glass, and he sighed.  “Alright, fine.  Stupid is the right word for it, but I’m interested.  He’s… something.  Are you happy now?” he added, feeling a bit petulant.  He hadn’t invited Mick out for drinks with the intention of his best friend grilling him about his romantic life, but here they were. 

“I’ll be happy when you ask him out,” Mick said, looking satisfied.  “But it’ll do.” 

Len nodded, and allowed the conversation to lapse into silence when he noticed that the bartender was watching them curiously out of the corner of his eye.    

Mick took a long drink and set his mug down on the counter decisively.  “I’ve been thinking.” 

“Always dangerous,” Len said dryly. 

Mick ignored him.  “It’s been a while since we trained.  With all the hours you’re taking, I’d think your boss should be okay giving you a day or two off.” 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  “You’re talking about going camping, now?  Between my love life and my caseload, I’m being pulled in too many different directions for that.”  To say nothing of the fact that it was the middle of winter.  Len might not mind the cold, but camping in January was still over-the-top. 

“All the more reason for you to take a few days off,” Mick countered.  “Besides, if you’re gonna be going up against speedsters, you’ve gotta stay sharp.” 

Apparently Mick was serious about taking a trip, then.  “I wish I’d never told you about the Reverse-Flash,” Len said with a sigh. 

“No you don’t,” Mick retorted.  “You’d still be crashing at your apartment if you hadn’t come clean to me.  But I’m serious,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Len.  “Talk to Singh.  And get the Flash to keep an eye on things here, if you’re that worried.” 

Len shook his head.  “The Flash is already helping me out with the Reverse-Flash case.” 

“And he’ll help you with the rest of it, if you ask.”  Mick waved to the bartender and signaled for a refill, seeming to have forgotten that he’d had a low opinion of the bar at the beginning of the night. 

The bartender’s eyes landed on Len, sharp behind his glasses in a way that reminded Len of a hawk.  “I couldn’t help overhearing your predicament,” he said as he returned Mick’s glass. 

Len raised one eyebrow deliberately.  “You make a habit of eavesdropping on private conversations, kid?” 

“You’re at a bar,” the bartender retorted with an almost-smile that wasn’t particularly friendly.  “No conversation is private.  But if you want my advice, listen to your friend.  _Occasio aegre offertur, facile amittitur –_ opportunity is offered with difficulty and lost with ease.” 

Len’s raised eyebrow was genuine this time.  He couldn’t begin to parse out the meaning of each word the bartender had said, but he knew enough to recognize the language when he heard it.  “Didn’t know the bartenders in this joint spoke Latin.” 

“Only if you’re cute,” the bartender fired back, and Len blinked.  “Clearly _you’re_ taken, but if your friend over there is interested,” he said, tilting his head toward Mick, “I work most weeknights, but I could probably squeeze him in.” 

He disappeared back into the shadows, presumably to serve another customer.  Len stared after him for a second, perplexed, then shook himself.  “Mick.  I think the bartender just hit on you.  And he told me to get my head out of my ass in _Latin._ ” 

“Huh.”  Mick looked intrigued.  “Did it work?  The Latin?” 

Len shot his best friend a look, but Mick just chuckled before holding his pintglass out with a meaningful look at Len’s hands. 

Len tugged off his gloves with a sigh.  At the end of the day, he supposed drinking with Mick on New Year’s eve was better than drinking alone. 

Probably. 

* * *

“Thanks again for agreeing to help out with this,” Cisco said as he removed a casserole dish from the oven and set it on the stove to cool. 

“Cisco, your invitation to watch the ball drop on New Year’s came with the promise of, and I quote, ‘all the dubious-quality potatoes au gratin you can eat,’” Barry said, his lips twitching faintly.  “How exactly was I supposed to pass up an opportunity like that?” 

“You might not be thanking me once you start eating,” Cisco said, jabbing an oven mitt at Barry in warning.  “I’m pretty sure the oven dried out that top layer.” 

Barry shrugged.  “I guess I’ll have to take my chances.” 

Even if Barry was dreading the conversation he was planning for later that evening, it was still nice to be spending some one-on-one time with Cisco.  Lately he’d only seen the engineer at STAR Labs, a place he was still fairly keen on avoiding since he was no closer to figuring out how they’d been hacked.  He’d been trying his best to act normal around his team, but the stress of keeping his agenda hidden, along with everything else that was going on in his life, was beginning to take a toll. 

He’d been spending more time than he’d planned on with Bette since that first paranoia-fueled run he’d made to Keystone.  She was good company, she didn’t ask him too many questions, and she had nothing to do with STAR Labs, which was refreshing when he just needed a break from it all.  He knew better than to depend on her company as a long-term solution, but having someone to talk to who was removed from all the craziness in the other parts of his life was a relief at this point.  

In order to pay Bette back for continuing to be so nice about the whole illicit-tracking-device thing, Barry had also taken to facilitating Bette’s move back to Central City.  Touring apartments was much less risky for him, since he wasn’t on the military’s radar.  Even though Bette had assured Barry that her new identity would hold up under scrutiny, it was better to be safe than sorry.  And it wasn’t like touring apartments and reporting the results back to Bette was a complete waste of his time.  He needed to move out of Caitlin’s apartment eventually – and given what he had recently learned about Ronnie’s whereabouts, he hoped it would be sooner rather than later. 

Barry had been keeping his eyes peeled for Firestorm, but there had been no sign of them since the night of the holiday party.  It was beginning to scare him.  He’d told Martin that he would go find them himself once three days had passed, but that had been before he’d learned that STAR Labs had somehow been infiltrated by the Reverse-Flash. 

On the other hand, what he’d told Iris the night of the party was still true – without STAR Labs, Barry had no clue how he’d be able to help Martin and Ronnie.  There was no way he could just leave them fused into one person with out-of-control powers and no idea who they were the majority of the time.  He needed to start getting to the bottom of the Reverse-Flash conspiracy so he knew whether or not it would be safe to ask STAR Labs for help, and he needed to do it fast. 

It was part of why he’d accepted Cisco’s invitation tonight.  His team had been willing to give him space, probably figuring that their collective failure to capture the Reverse-Flash was still the reason he seemed upset, but he knew better than to think that could last.  If he wanted to make any progress, he needed his team back.  And that meant he’d have to trust someone. 

Cisco was the most logical person to speak to first, since he was the person that Barry most needed on his side.  Dr. Wells might own the building, but it was Cisco who kept things running, both with his engineering skills and his supportive presence.  Once Barry knew that Cisco was in the clear, he’d be able to stop worrying about having one of his best friends turned against him, to say nothing of the tech advantages.  He’d be able to see about getting new S.O.S. buttons without hidden tracking software this time, both to replace the one he’d given to Bette and to give to Len, in case he ever needed to summon the Flash in a hurry.  He might even be able to ask about getting a backup suit. 

It was also Cisco’s answer that Barry was the most afraid of.  Cisco would be in the best position to hack any of STAR Labs’ equipment, so as a target of blackmail, he made the most sense.  But when the Reverse-Flash had escaped, Cisco had been distraught.  Barry knew that Cisco would never willingly betray any of the STAR Labs team, so if the Reverse-Flash was holding something over him, it would have to be something massive. 

What if it was something too big for Barry to help him fix? 

Cisco scooped a serving of the first batch of potatoes au gratin onto a plate and held it out.  Barry took it, but with a sudden twist of anxiety, he realized that he wasn’t even hungry.  He was too nervous. 

That settled it.  He wasn’t going to let his own anxiety and paranoia ruin an entire evening just for the sake of delaying a difficult conversation.  Besides, the moment Cisco noticed Barry ignoring his food, he’d know something was up. 

Barry set the plate down on the counter and took a deep breath.  “Cisco, I need to tell you something.” 

“If it’s about the potatoes, I think I probably sliced them too thick,” Cisco said around a bite of food.  “They aren’t quite cooked enough – but you aren’t talking about the food, are you?” he said, eyes widening as he turned around and caught sight of Barry’s expression.  “What happened?” 

Barry opened his mouth, hesitated, and changed tactics.  “If someone was going to blackmail you, how would they do it?” 

Cisco’s eyebrows rose.  “Are we talking hypothetically?” he said, his voice quizzical, and Barry felt some of the tension slide out of him.  If Cisco _was_ being blackmailed, he would have reacted way more strongly when Barry mentioned it.  Everything was probably fine. 

But he had to know for sure.  “I’m just – thinking.  Everybody’s got their weak spots,” he continued, gripping the counter with one hand to prevent himself from pacing.  “For me, obviously, you could threaten to out me as the Flash, but if you really wanted to force me to do something, the best way to do it would be to threaten Iris.” 

Cisco eyed Barry warily.  “That makes sense, but why are you telling me this?  You’re worrying me, dude.” 

Barry took a deep breath.  “Because on the night of Clarissa’s party, I found out that the Reverse-Flash managed to tamper with the trap.”  The color drained from Cisco’s face, but Barry forged on.  “As far as I can tell, he would have had to go really deep into our systems to do what he did – which means he probably had help,” he said in a rush, his stomach tying itself in knots as Cisco’s alarmed expression was gradually replaced by one of concern.  “I know you’d never do it unless somebody made you do it, and I feel awful for even thinking it’s possible, but if he’s holding something over you I want to be able help you-”

While Barry was rambling, Cisco closed the distance between them and pulled Barry into a hug.  “Hey,” he said gently.  “It’s gonna be okay.” 

It was an impossible promise, but Cisco said it with such conviction that for a split second, Barry was able to believe it.  Overwhelmed, both by the hug and the sudden release of emotional tension, Barry wrapped his arms around Cisco’s shoulders and promptly burst into tears. 

He dimly registered Cisco guiding him over to the sofa and allowed his friend to lead him, too shocked by the sudden deluge of emotions to offer any resistance.  With the small portion of his brain that hadn’t dedicated itself to purging all of its repressed grief and anxiety in one fell swoop, Barry was mortified.  He’d never broken down like this in front of anyone but Iris, and it was something he never wanted _anyone_ to see if he could help it. 

But for someone who had unexpectedly ended up at ground zero of Barry completely losing his shit, Cisco was actually doing really well.  Barry registered that he’d been wrapped up in something warm – a blanket? – and that Cisco was rubbing his back in a soothing circular motion.  It was – actually helping.  The realization set off another round of crying, but instead of feeling like he was being rolled down a hill by his own runaway feelings, he actually felt like some of those pent-up emotions were beginning to dissipate. 

When he was finally cried out, Barry sheepishly released his stranglehold on Cisco and wiped his eyes, which felt like they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper.  “Sorry about that,” he said with a grimace.  “I probably got your blanket all gross.” 

“That’s not important,” Cisco said firmly.  He reached over Barry’s shoulder and grabbed a box of tissues off the side table, offering it to him.  “You’ve been dealing with this all on your own, haven’t you?” 

Barry took a tissue and wiped his nose gratefully.  “You’re the first person I’ve told,” he admitted.  “I haven’t even told Iris.”

Cisco nodded.  “And you told me first because I seemed like the most likely suspect.” 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, even though it does sound pretty shitty when you put it like that,” Barry said with a wince.  “But yeah – if I wanted to hack STAR Labs, you’re the first person I’d ask to do the job.” 

“You flatterer,” Cisco said with a watery smile.  Barry saw that Cisco’s eyes were faintly red – he’d probably been crying too.  “But in all seriousness, I haven’t gotten any ominous threats and I definitely haven’t been ordered to install shady malware on STAR Labs’ servers.  I wish I knew who else could have done it,” he said, biting his lip.  “Hartley probably could have, once upon a time – the physicist that Dr. Wells fired?”  Barry nodded, and Cisco continued.  “But he has no reason to come back to STAR Labs now that it’s mostly gone under.  I doubt the Reverse-Flash would even know how to get ahold of him.” 

Barry nodded slowly.  “I mainly just needed to make sure it wasn’t you,” he admitted.  “Since you weren’t the one who did it, you’re probably the best shot we have at finding out how the Reverse-Flash hacked us in the first place – and how much damage he did while he was mucking around in our systems.” 

Cisco’s eyes widened.  “Shit.  The suit – and all our data from when you were in your coma.  He could have found any of that once he was deep enough in our files.” 

Barry nodded – the idea had occurred to him, but it wasn’t one of his main concerns.  “He probably wouldn’t be interested in my biometrics, since he’s a speedster himself,” he explained.  “He knows he’s faster than me from experience, and since he already knows my name he probably wouldn’t even need STAR Labs to find out more about my civilian identity.  I’m more worried about him using our tracking software to keep tabs on me when I’m running around the city as the Flash.” 

“Good point,” Cisco said, still looking disturbed.  “What exactly did you find at STAR Labs that made you sure we’d been hacked?” 

Barry told Cisco about his search, first of the trap and then of the generator.  Cisco’s eyes grew wider as the story progressed, and when Barry told him about the hologram, his jaw dropped.  “Holy shit,” he breathed.  “A hologram that advanced must have required a massive chunk of code.  Probably some additional hardware for the processing power too, unless it just came with a bunch of pre-recorded phrases, and even then it would probably need _something._ I can see why you thought I might have been the one to slip it past the firewall,” he finished, looking disturbed. 

Barry nodded slowly.  He wasn’t able to completely follow along with Cisco’s computer jargon, but the gist of it was that the engineer agreed with Barry – and that meant they had good reason to be worried.  “So if you didn’t do it, that means the Reverse-Flash is either a brilliant hacker, or he was able to pull a brilliant hacker out of his back pocket,” he said, wincing inwardly because neither possibility was appealing in the least.  “What did you mean about the hologram needing extra processing power, though?  Were you talking about the drain you noticed in the energy readings?” 

Cisco shook his head.  “The energy drain is part of it, but what I’m talking about is the extra computing power it would have taken to run the thing in the first place,” he said.  “Speech recognition requires some pretty specialized software, and being able to respond verbally to user input requires a ton more processing power than speech-to-text.  We laugh at Siri for making mistakes, but she actually does a pretty good job considering the sorts of things we ask her for.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “So you’re saying that there’s an extra smartphone’s worth of computing power hidden in this generator, and that’s what’s letting the hologram do its thing?” 

“Yep,” Cisco nodded, drawing out the P with a popping sound.  “Evil Siri… Should we call it Eerie?  I’ll work on it,” he amended hastily when Barry shot him a look.  “The important thing is that an extra smartphone of computing power is about what it would take for the hologram to be able to speak to Dr. Wells like a computer, but that wasn’t all it was doing.  It had speech patterns like a real human, not to mention it walked _and_ talked like the Reverse-Flash.  All of us thought it was the real thing.” 

“So what are you saying?” Barry said nervously. 

“I’m saying we don’t just have a ghost in the machine – we have the entire Haunted Mansion,” Cisco said.  He grabbed a pencil off his side table and twirled it between his fingers.  “However the Reverse-Flash got it in there, we would have been in a lot of trouble if you hadn’t found the security breach so quickly.” 

Barry nodded, but he couldn’t accept the praise.  “If I’d told you sooner, you could have had everything fixed by now,” he said, feeling ashamed.  If he’d just forced himself to get over his paranoia faster, they could have saved a week’s worth of lost time. 

Cisco shook his head.  “Dude, you’re being too hard on yourself,” he said with a smile.  “It’ll be fine.  I can do a complete scrub of our systems.  Anything that isn’t supposed to be there will be flushed right out.  And if we’re still worried that we didn’t get it all, Dr. Wells has a running backup that completely copies the STAR Labs server every three days.  We’ll go to the most recent backup before the trap if we have to.  We’ll lose some data, but all our files should be completely clean.” 

“We’re going to have to tell the others, aren’t we?” Barry said, feeling dread settle in his stomach.  Dr. Wells would be furious that he’d kept this from them, even if he’d done it for the right reasons.

Cisco gave him a sympathetic look.  “Yeah, probably,” he said.  “But let’s not worry about that – it’s New Year’s, and you still have potatoes au gratin to sample.  So try to relax.” 

Barry reached across the sofa and gave Cisco a hug.  “Thanks.  I mean it.” 

“Anytime, dude,” Cisco said, his mouth somewhat muffled by Barry’s shoulder.  “I’ve got your back.” 

With a bit of effort, Barry was able to set aside most of his fears for the remainder of the evening.  Cisco wasn’t the source of the breach, and that meant Barry was able to set his number-one worry to rest for real, instead of just forcing himself to ignore it and go about his day.  Combined with the fact that he’d finally given into his need to have a good solid cry, no matter how involuntary it had been, Barry was feeling better than he had since he’d seen the Reverse-Flash at the precinct that first night. 

Everything seemed more manageable with Cisco on his side.  Once he confronted the rest of his team, things would probably feel even better. 

It was almost enough to make him look forward to the conversation. 

Almost. 

When the next day came, it was Cisco’s presence at Barry’s back that steadied his nerves enough to talk to Caitlin and Dr. Wells.  As succinctly as he could, he gave them the details that mattered most – that the Reverse-Flash had compromised STAR Labs, and that he’d probably had help to do it.

“Let me get this straight,” Dr. Wells said once Barry had finished explaining, his voice like steel.  “You came back to STAR Labs on your own, without telling anyone where you were or what you were doing, and scoured our trap for signs of sabotage without warning anyone else that something could be wrong?” 

Confused, Barry resisted the urge to step backward.  “I don’t understand.  Why are you mad that I didn’t tell anyone I was going to investigate the trap?” 

“Because if your concerns proved founded, which they apparently did, you could have done more harm than good by investigating without a clear idea of what you were searching for,” Dr. Wells said.  “If you had waited for Cisco or myself-”

Barry shook his head.  “The reason I didn’t wait was because I thought the Reverse-Flash might be holding something over you!  If I’d told you what I was doing, you would have tried to stop me.” 

“If one of us knew something that you didn’t, we would have been able to prevent you from endangering yourself,” Dr. Wells said.  “What if the Reverse-Flash had prepared a contingency to warn him if anyone tampered with the trap?  What if he learned what you were doing and came to investigate?” 

This wasn’t the direction that Barry had been planning to take this conversation at all, and he found himself growing frustrated.  “But none of that happened, so now we need to figure out what to do next.”

“And we will figure it out,” Dr. Wells said.  He sat back in his chair, and Barry felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders at his mentor’s more relaxed posture.  “But what’s important is _you._ When you act without your team, you leave yourself vulnerable to risk.” 

Barry nodded slowly, feeling his frustration beginning to ebb now that it seemed like Dr. Wells was more willing to listen to him.  “I know.  But if something I do is going to put STAR Labs at risk, I _will_ do it on my own if it means I can keep you three safe.  You help me a lot, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be put in harm’s way.” 

“Sometimes, what we deserve doesn’t matter,” Dr. Wells said, his lips twitching.  “You cast your lot with STAR Labs, for better or worse.  At the end of the day, you need to let us support you.  If you can’t trust us to look out for your best interests, who can you trust?” 

Barry smiled faintly.  “I guess that means the Reverse-Flash isn’t holding anything over you, then.” 

“I suspect he would find his options rather limited, should he try,” Dr. Wells replied.  “The only weak points I have are right here in this room.  If the Reverse-Flash tried to make targets of any of you, he would be sorry.” 

Barry wasn’t sure how Dr. Wells expected to follow up on a statement like that, but he had no doubt that his mentor was sincere.  He’d never really thought of the possibility that Team Flash could be Dr. Wells’ Achilles heel, but it made sense.  It was touching, in a protective sort of way, especially coming from Dr. Wells.  Barry felt the rest of his anger dissipate, and he nodded.  “I’m sure he would be.  And Caitlin?” he said, glancing over to the final member of his team. 

Caitlin shook his head.  “I haven’t heard anything from the Reverse-Flash, and he’d find me hard to target in any case,” she said with a half-smile.  “I’m not exactly known for my vibrant social life.” 

“Hey, don’t knock yourself – I’ve seen you at work parties, and you know how to have a good time,” Cisco said.  He left his position at Barry’s shoulder and dropped into the swivel chair behind the monitors.  “But seriously, it’s a good thing that you found the Reverse-Flash’s meddling.  I’m gonna start hunting down these bugs.  The sooner we can get all the kinks worked out of the system, the sooner we can go back to business as usual.” 

“I think I speak for all of us when I say I look forward to a return to whatever passes as normal, for us,” Dr. Wells said dryly.  He wheeled over to where Cisco was sitting, and before long they were engaged in a conversation so laden with technobabble that Barry wouldn’t have been able to follow it even if he’d been using his superpowers to keep up with everything they were saying. 

For once, Barry didn’t mind being out of the loop.  He’d be able to get Cisco to summarize the important points later – and besides, now that the adrenaline rush from their conversation was fading, Barry was beginning to feel tired.  “I’m glad that’s over with,” he said to Caitlin with a weak smile. 

“I don’t blame you,” Caitlin said, nodding in agreement.  “I am curious, though.  It seemed like your original plan was to make sure that everything was safe at STAR Labs by talking to us one at a time.  Why did you decide to tell us all at once?” 

Barry winced as he felt his heart rate kick back up again – apparently he’d spoken too soon about the stressful conversations being over for the day, because this one wasn’t going to be good.  He’d only abandoned his original course of action once he’d confirmed that Cisco, the most likely candidate, wasn’t the one responsible for the hacking.  With that threat out of the way, his worries about Martin had quickly moved to the forefront, and he’d decided it made more sense to tell Caitlin and Dr. Wells at the same time than to vet them both thoroughly.  But Caitlin, who was the closest to the Firestorm case aside from Barry himself, had no idea that he’d learned new things about Firestorm.

At the time, keeping the news about Firestorm to himself had seemed like the right thing to do.  But now that he knew nobody on his team was being blackmailed by the Reverse-Flash, it turned out that Barry had been keeping information about their friend and coworker – hell, about Caitlin’s fucking _fiancé –_ from them for no reason at all. 

They were probably gonna be pissed. 

Barry took a deep breath to brace himself before beginning.  As much as this would probably suck, his friends had a right to know.  And every second he hesitated was a second that they weren’t spending helping Martin and Ronnie. “There’s – one more thing,” he said, raising his voice so that it would carry to Dr. Wells and Cisco.  “I was going to wait until we’d finished checking over the computer systems to mention it, but during the holiday party at Clarissa’s, I learned some new things about Firestorm.” 

Cisco sat up, his expression puzzled but interested.  “Firestorm – isn’t he the burning man?  The guy you thought might be connected to your foster dad’s research?” 

With a sinking feeling, Barry realized that Cisco knew even less about the Firestorm situation than Caitlin did.  Barry and Caitlin had discussed the truth about Ronnie’s survival and Firestorm’s identity at her apartment, because they’d been together when they discovered the connection, but they’d never told Cisco.  “Martin’s research, yeah,” Barry said, his mouth suddenly dry, “but that’s not the only thing.  I saw a picture of the STAR Labs Christmas party last year, and I realized that the man I called Firestorm is actually Ronnie.” 

Cisco’s jaw dropped.  “You mean Ronnie’s alive?  But that’s not possible.” 

“It is possible – and last week, I finally figured out why,” Barry said.  He felt awful about dropping all of this on Cisco at once, but it needed to be said so that they could move forward.  “When the particle accelerator blew, my foster dad was on his way to visit STAR Labs.  I don’t know for sure, but I think he had the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. matrix with him – a portable fusion device.”  He swallowed at the looks on his friends’ faces, but forged on ahead.  “When the accelerator exploded, the dark matter from the blast reacted with the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. matrix – and with whatever was left of Ronnie and Martin.” 

Dr. Wells tilted his head.  “What are you saying, Mister Allen?” 

Barry bit his lip.  “I’m saying that the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. matrix fused Martin and Ronnie into one person.  And I know it’s true because he showed up at Clarissa’s house that night, and he told me all of this himself.” 

Caitlin covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes horrified.  Cisco, on the other hand, still seemed to be struggling to process what Barry was saying.  “Two people, in one body?” he said, his expression gradually morphing from incredulity to horror as he sorted through Barry’s words.  “How does that even work?” 

Barry shrugged helplessly.  “As best I could gather, it’s Ronnie’s body, but Martin’s brain is the one doing the driving.  Ronnie’s still in there, though – I think they’re fighting for control.  It’s why they can’t control their powers, or remember who they are.” 

His words fell into one of the most awful silences Barry had ever experienced.  Caitlin looked stunned; Cisco looked one wrong move away from tears.  Barry was afraid to look at Dr. Wells, but he forced himself to do it anyway.  His mentor’s expression was thoughtful but troubled, as if Barry had handed him a puzzle that he would have found interesting, if he’d known how best to solve it. 

Finally, Caitlin spoke up.  “If both of them are still alive… is there any way we can separate them?”

Barry took a deep breath.  “I don’t know.” 

There was a clatter from over by the monitors; Barry turned in time to see Cisco bolt out of the Cortex.  “Cisco!” Barry called after him in alarm, but the engineer didn’t pause. 

Feeling sick, Barry turned and caught Caitlin’s eye.  “We have to go after him.  He had no idea that Ronnie was even alive until just now.” 

Caitlin nodded.  “I bet he’ll be down in the particle accelerator.  Sometimes he’d go down and sit there, while you were in your coma.” 

Barry imagined a grief-stricken Cisco sitting in the hollowed-out shell of the machine he’d helped create, and had to risk the urge to bolt out of the Cortex in pursuit.  Cisco didn’t deserve to suffer because of Barry’s choice to keep silent, and it wasn’t fair that he was suffering now.  “Let’s go.  Doctor Wells – I want to talk about this more when we get back.  If there’s anyone who can figure out how to help Martin and Ronnie, it’s you.  But right now, Cisco needs us.” 

Dr. Wells nodded slowly, his expression distant.  “Yes, of course,” he said, turning to look at Barry.  “The trust you place in my abilities, and in me, is gratifying, both of you.  I hope I won’t disappoint you.” 

“We know you’ll do your best,” Caitlin said, briefly resting her hand on Dr. Wells’ shoulder before turning back to Barry.  “Now let’s go find Cisco.” 

“On the way out of the Cortex, Barry glanced back to catch sight of his mentor’s expression.  Dr. Wells had removed his glasses, and his ice-blue eyes were filled with an expression that Barry had never seen him wear before. 

Dr. Wells looked _conflicted._

Biting his lip, Barry forced himself to look away and follow Caitlin down the hall and into the bowels of STAR Labs. 

They walked in silence until Barry worked up the nerve to open his mouth.  “Did Doctor Wells seem kind of… _off_ to you?” Barry asked hesitantly. 

Caitlin grimaced.  “Doctor Wells can be intense when he’s angry.  But I don’t think he was mad at you,” she said, sending Barry a faint smile.  “He probably didn’t want to deal with starting off the new year with more bad news.” 

“We’d have left the bad news behind in 2014 if I’d told you guys everything from the start,” Barry sighed. 

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Caitlin said firmly, shaking her head.  “You had good reasons to be cautious.” 

Barry knew she was right, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty. 

It took them longer than Barry expected to reach the particle accelerator.  They were going deeper into STAR Labs than Barry had ever been before, farther down than even the basement level.  He supposed it made sense to have the particle accelerator located so deep underground, but Barry couldn’t help feeling a bit claustrophobic.  It wasn’t the type of place he’d be able to get out of in a hurry. 

While they waited for what was thankfully the final elevator, Caitlin broke the silence.  “I haven’t been down here since the night Ronnie died,” she said quietly.  “Cisco said that seeing the accelerator made him think about the responsibility he has to prevent something like this from ever happening again, but that’s not how I feel.”  She glanced sideways at Barry, her expression conflicted.  “Coming down here – I felt like it would only remind me of what I lost.” 

Barry’s heart clenched painfully.  “Caitlin, I’m really sorry that I didn’t tell you about Ronnie sooner.  He needs our help – my not saying anything just ended up setting us back.” 

Caitlin nodded.  “Thank you for apologizing.  I’m not happy that I didn’t know, but I understand why you did it.  Until you knew that STAR Labs was safe, searching for Ronnie and Martin could have left them vulnerable to even more danger.” 

“STAR Labs still isn’t completely safe,” Barry said.  “I’m really glad that the Reverse-Flash didn’t use any of you to plant the bugs, but he still got into our systems somehow.  And the bugs he put into our computers are still there.  Cisco said he could restore an old backup of the servers if it turns out that everything is still too compromised to save, but that’ll take time.”  He was reluctant to voice his greatest fear – that the time it took for them to fix STAR Labs might end up being time that Ronnie and Martin didn’t have.  

Caitlin nodded slowly.  “We’ll do what we have to do.  Even if we can’t bring Ronnie and Martin home right now, we’ll do whatever it takes to make them as safe as they can be.” 

The elevator arrived, and Barry and Caitlin stepped inside.  “This isn’t super relevant right now, but I’ve started looking at apartments,” Barry said as they started to descend.  “If we’re able to split Ronnie and Martin apart, I’m betting you’ll want your own place back.” 

Caitlin’s lips twitches.  “You’re welcome to crash on our sofa anytime, but I see your point.  I think I’m okay with that being the reason for you to end up getting a place of your own.” 

Barry smiled.  If Caitlin was able to tease him, she was still doing okay – even though they were headed into the heart of a place that probably still gave her nightmares.  He was glad to see she was keeping her spirits up, even if some of it was just putting on a brave face. 

When the elevator doors hissed open, Barry almost took a step backward in surprise.  The particle accelerator access tunnel wasn’t what he’d been expecting.  It was as futuristic-looking as the rest of STAR Labs, but in a different way.  The main building had a sleek, high-tech aesthetic – plenty of chrome, elegant lines, and clearly designed to be just as impressive as it was functional. 

The particle accelerator eschewed that design in a way that was instantly noticeable.  Every pneumatic tube and coil looked like it meant business, and even if Barry hadn’t known what was on the other side of the gigantic sealed door, he would still have instantly treated the space with wary respect. 

This was what STAR Labs was like when the public wasn’t there to see, and Barry wasn’t sure he liked it. 

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Caitlin said, probably mistaking the unease in Barry’s expression for awe. 

Barry stepped out of the elevator and looked around, slowly turning so that he could take in the entire space.  “It doesn’t look like something that STAR Labs would have created.” 

“Nobody but STAR Labs staff was ever allowed down into the accelerator itself,” Caitlin explained, moving ahead of him and walking straight toward the round door at the end of the corridor.  “Doctor Wells always said that as long as the accelerator was safe, nobody would care what it looked like.  It was supposed to be the results we got here that mattered.”  She stopped at the door and glanced back at Barry.  “At the end of the day, he ended up being right – just not in the way we were expecting.” 

She pressed her palm to an access panel, and the door in front of them slid upward with a pneumatic hiss to reveal a second, smaller corridor beyond.  A smooth concrete ramp led down from Barry and Caitlin’s current position to another door, smaller than the first, located at the end of the hall. 

Cisco was sitting on the ramp, staring up at the second door.  He must have heard the sound of their footsteps on the concrete as they approached, but he gave no sign that he’d noticed them until they sat down on either side of him. 

Barry wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say _something._ He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but to his relief Caitlin beat him to the punch.  “Cisco,” she said quietly, “we’re sorry we didn’t tell you about Ronnie sooner.  I should have realized how much you still miss him.” 

Cisco was silent for a minute before raising his gaze to the ceiling.  “After the particle accelerator exploded, I came down here almost every day, trying to figure out what went wrong,” he said so quietly that Barry had to strain to hear him.  “Seventeen people died that night, and that’s just the deaths we know about for sure.  That isn’t even accounting for all the metahumans who’ve had their lives turned upside-down by their powers, or the people who have been killed in metahuman attacks since that night.”  He glanced sideways at Barry, whose stomach lurched at the guilt he saw in Cisco’s eyes.  “All of those deaths are on me, and Ronnie’s was the worst one of all.” 

“Cisco, you’re not being fair to yourself,” Barry said, wishing he knew whether a hug would make his friend feel better or worse.  “Everyone who worked here was responsible for what happened that night, even Doctor Wells.  You can’t put all these deaths on your shoulders.” 

“Barry, I was one of the _engineers,”_ Cisco said.  “Out of everyone working in this building, I was the one in the best position to notice that something was wrong, except for Ronnie.  Ronnie _died_ to prevent our mistake from killing even more people, and I was there when it happened.” 

Caitlin drew in a tiny, sharp breath.  “Cisco.  What do you mean, you were there?” 

“I mean that when Ronnie ran into the accelerator to reset the parameters so that the blast would vent upward, instead of blowing the lab and everyone in it to smithereens, he told me to wait by the blast door and to set the timer on my phone for two minutes,” Cisco said flatly.  “He said that if he wasn’t back by the time the clock ran out, I had to close the blast doors and trap him inside.” 

Barry’s heart stopped.  No wonder Cisco felt awful about what had happened that night.  He must have been carrying around what had happened ever since the explosion, and apparently he hadn’t told anyone – not even Caitlin.  “What did you do?” he asked, even though he had a feeling he already knew. 

“I listened,” Cisco said with a twitch of his lips that almost bordered on a smile.  “When he didn’t come back, I sealed the blast doors and left him there to die.” 

Caitlin wrapped an arm around Cisco’s shoulders.  “Cisco, I had no idea,” she said softly.  “But you don’t have to feel guilty.  You did what Ronnie wanted.  Both of you saved countless lives.” 

Cisco chuckled wetly.  “Except that’s not why I feel guilty.  Ever since that night, what I’ve wanted more than anything was the chance to go back in time and repeat that moment over again.  If I’d just waited ten, fifteen more seconds, Ronnie might not have died.  You would have had your fiancé, and I would have my friend.”  He dashed a hand across his eyes.  “Now, it turns out that Ronnie was never dead.  He’s alive, and we have a chance to help him.  But there’s nothing I can do to fix everything else that happened that night.  Sixteen people are still dead because of what we did, and it’s us who are getting a second chance to save a person we love.  I’m happy that we can help Ronnie, but I know we don’t deserve it.” 

Barry put an arm around Cisco, stretching his fingers out so that he reached Caitlin’s shoulder as well.  “Right now, it doesn’t matter what we deserve,” he said quietly, echoing Dr. Wells’ words from the Cortex.  “What matters is that we have to keep moving.  Fixing STAR Labs, and helping Martin and Ronnie – those are just our next steps.  We can keep fixing what we’ve done to this city, but we can only do that if we refuse to give up.” 

Cisco glanced at Barry and Caitlin fondly, a faint smile forming at the corners of his mouth.  “When did you two get so good at inspirational speeches?”

Barry shrugged.  “You guys are bound and determined to turn me into a superhero.  I figured it’s part of the job description.” 

“You’ve got a point,” Cisco said.  “Wanna see the inside of the particle accelerator?  I can open the door for you.” 

The breath caught in Barry’s lungs at the idea of seeing such an incredible piece of engineering with his own eyes, even if it was broken beyond repair, but he shook his head.  “Maybe in a minute.  But for now, I’m happy where I am.” 

Things weren’t perfect – STAR Labs was still unsecured, and the Reverse-Flash was still out there plotting and scheming.  But Barry had his team back, and that was a victory. 

He could take things as they came, as long as he wasn’t dealing with the hardships alone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses who the bartender is. ;) 
> 
> I've also ended up knee-deep in BNHA fandom hell lately, and have actually started writing a fake-dating AU at the request of my best friend. I'm not going to start posting chapters until I've got the majority of it written, but it's a fun and fluffy diversion, and I confess that it's entertaining to write something that isn't slow-burn for a change. So if you're interested in BNHA, keep your eyes peeled for that one in the future!


	28. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the bad news is that, after fighting it off for several weeks, I've finally succumbed to the cold that's been running amok throughout my hometown. I held out a long time, but it got me in the end! It's not the most enjoyable reason for me to end up with a three-day weekend, but I'm trying to look at it as a silver lining, since I'll be able to make progress on my NaNo goals today. 
> 
> The other piece of good news is that I have an update to put out, and since I'm home, I can post it now instead of tonight like I'd been originally planning on! I'm really looking forward to replying to comments on the last chapter; all of the predictions and questions people are asking about characters and future events are absolutely making my life complete.

Len disliked having stressful conversations early in the morning.  It was better to start the day slowly.  A quiet morning led to fewer frayed tempers and overall higher morale by the end of the shift.  If he’d had his way, he would have preferred to discuss matters with Captain Singh later in the day. 

Unfortunately, the plans Mick was trying to finalize were time-sensitive.  Their usual campsite of choice, located in the foothills of the Ozarks, was closed during winter, and even if it had been open, Mick would have put his foot down.  Instead of camping outdoors, Mick had tracked down details on several rental cabins located in the vicinity of their usual spot.  Once Len had grudgingly agreed to the idea of a vacation, Mick had turned over the information and told Len to pick his favorite one.  “Lemme know by eleven so I can book the place,” he’d said.  Len had only nodded, too bemused by the level of planning that had gone into the endeavor to protest. 

Privately, Len had also resolved to have a word with his sister.  It wasn’t that Mick was incapable of coming up with plans on his own, far from it.  It was that he usually left the detail work to Len, and the hastiness with which he was being spirited away from Central definitely smelled of Lisa’s meddling. 

Len must have been acting more strangely than he’d realized, if both his sister and best friend were worried enough about him to stage a vacation-based intervention. 

But none of the travel arrangements would matter until he managed to get clearance from Captain Singh.  He was a bit concerned about the short notice, but Mick wanted to leave in two days, at the start of the weekend.  There wasn’t much Len could do about the timetable when he’d had no hand in planning the trip to begin with. 

As it turned out, Len needn’t have worried.  “Your sister told me she was surprising you with a trip as an early birthday present,” Captain Singh said when he saw Len standing in the doorway of his office.  “I’ve already scheduled you for time off.” 

Len nodded slowly, schooling his expression into neutrality.  His suspicions about Lisa’s meddling had apparently been right on the mark.  “That’s good.  How long is this surprise outing supposed to last?” 

“The request was for a week of leave, but the actual amount you take is up to you,” Captain Singh said.  Len must have looked stricken, because the captain’s businesslike expression briefly softened into something more personal.  “Central City will survive without you, you know.  Take the time.  You’ve been running yourself into the ground, and people are noticing,” he said, his tone becoming more firm.  “You aren’t Atlas, Detective.  If you run yourself ragged, you’ll start being a hindrance on your cases, instead of an asset.” 

Len’s jaw tightened.  He knew Singh was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  “The cabin I chose is remote,” he said.  “It’s got a landline, but no cell access.  I’ll go, but if there’s an emergency, I expect someone to call the number I leave.” 

Captain Singh sighed, seeming resigned.  “If it’s something we can’t handle, we’ll call you,” he said.  “But we can handle things in-house for a week.  Take your break, Snart – you deserve it.” 

Len resisted the urge to knock on the wooden doorframe as he left Singh’s office.  He knew the CCPD was capable of surviving without his personal oversight, but that didn’t mean he was happy about being removed from the loop.  For all he knew, the city’s peace could shatter the moment he and Mick drove across the county line. 

Maybe he would tell the Flash that he was leaving town.  He didn’t think the speedster would suddenly start stealing again just because Len wasn’t around to keep an eye on him; he wasn’t Scarlet’s babysitter.  But there was always a chance that something with the Reverse-Flash could come up.  The Flash wouldn’t be able to count on him for backup if he was sitting on a cabin porch in the foothills. 

Not that there would be much sitting, if Len had his way.  He fully intended to take advantage of the secluded location and the presence of his best sparring partner during the time he had off.  Len didn’t get many chances to test the limits of his powers while he was in the city, and he knew his versatility was limited because of it.  The cold field he’d practiced had saved lives in his fight against the Reverse-Flash, and he suspected there was still more he was capable of.  Who knew what other tricks were hiding up his sleeve, waiting to be discovered? 

Now that his conversation with Singh was out of the way, Len didn’t have much on the agenda for the rest of the morning.  He needed to touch base with his people about his travel plans, but it was unlikely that West or Thawne would be in the office until later that morning.  Lisa already knew he’d be gone, even though he’d probably need to give her more specific details.  She was at the station already, so he could talk to her next.  He also needed to let Barry know he’d be out of town, but that would have to wait; the CSI wasn’t scheduled to be in until that afternoon. 

Len’s heart lurched oddly as he realized that he’d actually memorized Barry’s schedule.  He hadn’t meant to do that, which was… telling, especially given the odd hours the CSI tended to work.  For him to have internalized it so thoroughly, he must have been paying close attention. 

Dammit – he was going to miss Barry.  It was only a week-long trip, but he’d gotten used to seeing Barry around the station.  They hadn’t gone more than a few days without a shared shift since Barry had come back from being shot in the leg. 

He hadn’t realized just how much Barry had managed to get under his skin.  Maybe taking a full week to clear his head a bit would be a good thing. 

Len forced all thoughts of Barry onto the backburner before starting down the stairs to Lisa’s lab.  The abrupt upheaval of both his emotions and his routine meant he wasn’t operating at his best, and he was frustrated with himself.  He could tell that he was off-kilter enough that if Lisa started teasing him about his crush, he wouldn’t find it funny at all. 

A thought occurred to him, and Len pulled out his phone.  Lisa’s basement had lousy reception, and texting Mick his news would give Len a delay of a minute or two.  Plus, his best friend had asked for an answer as soon as possible.  _Captain Singh says we’re good to go,_ he sent. 

Mick’s reply was almost immediate.  _Nice.  I’ll book the place and start packing every pair of long underwear I own._

Len let out a surprised bark of laughter and slipped his phone back into his pocket.  The weather would definitely be too cold for his best friend.  It made the lengths that he and Lisa had gone through to put this trip together suddenly seem touching, instead of inconvenient. 

He needed to get a grip on himself, he decided as he continued down the stairs.  All the sleep deprivation and running in circles on his cases was clearly making him over-emotional. 

Lisa was in the middle of running a test of some sort when Len entered the basement lab.  “How’d your conversation with Captain Singh go?” she said, raising her eyes from the piece of equipment whirring away in front of her. 

“It wasn’t much of a conversation,” Len said, giving his sister a look.  “Singh told me you had a hand in setting this up.”

“Don’t give me that look, Lenny,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes affectionately.  “It’s for your own good.  As cute as it is to see you pining after our favorite CSI, you really do need a break.”    

 Len winced internally at the mention of Barry, and something must have shown on his face because Lisa’s expression immediately softened.  “Sorry,” she said.  “I won’t tease.” 

Len nodded slowly, feeling grateful.  “I’m not very good at this,” he admitted.  “Feeling things.” 

“It comes with practice,” Lisa said.  “You feel plenty.  It’s just harder when you can’t hide it from yourself anymore.”

Len hated it when his sister’s words hit too close to home.  He decided to ignore her last statement in favor of guiding their conversation back toward safer ground.  “What’s new around the office?” he asked.  “Any exciting cases?” 

“Not since you left work last night,” Lisa said, her expression shifting to one of fond exasperation.  “I’ve been pushing most of the cases off on Barry, since it’s been so quiet.  It gives me time to work on the SOEC kits.” 

Len nodded slowly.  “I’m guessing you had a late night.  Maybe several late nights.  Don’t tell me you worked through the New Year, sis.” 

“It’s funny that you’re the one accusing _me_ of dropping the ball – oh, don’t give me that smirk,” Lisa groaned as she noticed her own unintentional pun.  Len was having a better morning already.  “I did score a date, though,” she continued, looking pleased with herself. 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  “With Cisco?”

“Yep,” Lisa replied.  “He called me first thing yesterday morning, and then immediately apologized for calling me so early.”  Her lips curved up in an amused smile.  “We’re going out for drinks on Friday night.” 

“You wouldn’t happen to have chosen to go out the same night that Mick and I are leaving town deliberately, right?” Len said, tilting his head. 

“Purely a coincidence, I assure you,” Lisa said, her lips twitching.  “I’ll text you to let you know how it goes, assuming you two haven’t entered the cellular dead zone already.  Why does Mick insist on leaving so late at night, anyway?” 

Len shrugged.  “It works for us.  Neither of us has to miss work, and we avoid the traffic.”  Len wasn’t very good at sleeping in cars, but he generally did the driving on long trips, so he didn’t mind their arrangement.  He’d usually sleep in the first day of the trip to make up for their late arrival time; one of the benefits of his odd hours at the CCPD was that he was used to getting his sleep when he was able.  “If you don’t text me, you know I’ll just use the landline to call you, right?” 

Lisa rolled her eyes fondly.  “You’re so overprotective.  I’ll make sure word gets to you one way or another.  And if this does go well, there’s always the possibility that you and Barry could double with us,” she said, arching an eyebrow. 

“And there we go with the teasing,” Len sighed, but there was no real heat in his voice. 

For better or worse, Len was able to spend most of the morning in the lab with his sister.  The company was welcome, especially when Len had so little to keep him occupied.  Eventually, the boredom started to make Len feel itchy, and he decided to take an early break.  “I’m going to walk to Jitters and get some coffee,” he told Lisa.  “Want anything?” 

“Barry swears by the peppermint hot chocolate,” Lisa said.  “I’ll take one of those with a shot of espresso in it, if the seasonal menu is still going.” 

The temperature outside the police station was a pleasant shock to Len’s system.  He didn’t envy Central’s other residents, who were bundled up against the weather and weren’t looking too pleased about the turn the season had taken.  Len had lived in Central his entire life, and he knew that January and February were bitterly cold compared to the rest of the winter months.  Even Len’s powers couldn’t protect him from the wind chill, so in a concession to Mother Nature, he’d decided to wear a windbreaker today.  Combined with his gloves, Len had all the protection he needed. 

It took Len about twelve minutes to walk from the station to Jitters.  The Motorcar would have been a more convenient choice if coffee was the only thing on Len’s mind, but since he’d wanted to stretch his legs, he didn’t mind the walk.  Keeping Lisa’s cup warm on the return trip would be an interesting challenge.  Hopefully his sister wouldn’t have to microwave her cocoa. 

When he stepped inside Jitters, his mouth turned up at the corners as the scent of peppermint assaulted his nostrils.  Apparently the seasonal menu was still in stock.  Lisa would be pleased. 

Len took a look around the coffee shop, then paused in surprise.  It seemed he and Lisa weren’t the only CCPD employees who’d been tempted in by the allure of the seasonal menu.  Barry was waiting in line, bundled in several layers of winter clothing.  Len’s lips twitched at the sight; apparently Barry wasn’t fond of the winter weather.  He wondered if Starling City was any warmer this time of year.

For a minute, Len hung back, uncertain about whether or not to approach.  Barry would be heading to the station after this, so it wasn’t like Len wouldn’t see him later.  On the other hand, he wanted to spend time around Barry since he was about to leave town for a week.  He was still getting used to spending time with Barry, now that he was more aware of his own feelings, but avoiding the CSI just because he was nervous would only succeed in giving Barry the wrong idea about what Len thought of him. 

He was an adult, dammit.  He could talk to the object of his affection if he wanted to.  And besides, Lisa and Mick would give him no end of shit if they found out he’d run into Barry at a coffee shop and _not_ stopped to talk to him. 

His mind made up, Len approached Barry’s position in line.  There weren’t many customers in Jitters this time of day, so he was unlikely to attract anyone’s ire.  And he _did_ just want to say hello.  He’d return to his spot in line once he’d taken the opportunity to greet Barry. 

“Having a good day?” he said once he was standing level with Barry’s shoulder.   

Barry startled, jumping nearly a foot, but any guilt Len felt about catching him off guard was quickly assuaged when the CSI turned around with a smile on his face.  “Len!  I haven’t bumped into you here before.” 

“I usually go to the Motorcar for coffee.  It’s closer,” Len explained.  “But Lisa wanted the seasonal menu, and I wanted a walk.”  He was talking more than he’d intended to, but Barry was clearly glad to see him, so at least the feeling was mutual. 

To Len’s surprise, Barry stepped out of his spot in line.  “Do you mind if I wait with you?  Since we’re both going back to the same place and all.” 

Len took a deep breath.  He was hardly going to say no to Barry’s company, and it _was_ nice to see him somewhere other than work.  “We could drink our coffees here,” he suggested, feeling his heart rate kick up slightly.  “We won’t have to worry about them getting cold on our way back to the station.” 

A flicker of surprise appeared on Barry’s face, but was quickly replaced by a pleased smile.  “That’s a good idea,” he said, and Len sighed inwardly in relief.  “You’ll pick up Lisa’s drink on the way out, I’m guessing?” 

Len nodded.  “She says you swear by the peppermint hot chocolate.” 

A light flush dusted Barry’s cheeks.  “What can I say?  I’ve got a sweet tooth.  And caffeine doesn’t really do anything to me,” he added, his expression suddenly shifting to something bordering on conspiratorial. 

Len’s eyebrows rose.  If he wanted to be _really_ daring, he could say something about how he’d witnessed Barry’s sweet tooth firsthand at the holiday party, but he didn’t want to push his luck by flirting.  “If you handle your caffeine the way you handle your alcohol, I’m not surprised,” he said instead before changing the subject.  “What would the barista have to say if I put a shot of espresso in my peppermint hot chocolate?  It’s what Lisa wants, and it doesn’t sound half bad.” 

Barry frowned thoughtfully.  “It would probably taste like a peppermint mocha, except really light on the coffee.  Can I try a sip if you end up getting one?” 

Len’s stomach lurched.  “Of course.” 

Barry was able to leverage his relationship with the staff to get an employee discount on their coffee, which Len couldn’t find it in him to disapprove of.  “Tell Iris congratulations from me!” the barista said as she rang up Len and Barry’s drinks. 

“Iris started working at Picture News yesterday,” Barry explained as he pulled out his wallet and held his card out to the barista.  “She’s really excited.” 

Len realized, with alarm, that Barry was paying for _both_ of their drinks.  He could have pulled out his own wallet and insisted to pay for his own, but it was already too late.  The card had been swiped.  Len would have to buy Barry another peppermint hot chocolate as they were leaving, to even out the scales.  Otherwise, this would feel entirely too much like a date for Len’s comfort. 

They waited for their drinks in easy silence, and once both of their hot chocolates were made, Barry immediately gravitated toward the cluster of four red chairs in the center of the coffee shop, shedding a few layers of winter clothing as he took a seat.  Len hesitated.  On the one hand, he was grateful that Barry hadn’t decided to sit on the couch.  On the other hand, he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to sit next to Barry or across from him.  Fortunately, Barry seemed to have decided that already; he tilted his head toward the seat next to him, his eyes questioning, and Len dropped into it, grateful for the reprieve. 

He removed the lid from his cup and set it on the table in front of him, watching the steam curl up from the surface of the hot chocolate.  It would be several minutes before he could begin to think about drinking it comfortably. 

Barry, on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms.  He took a sip straight from the lid, wincing when the hot chocolate scorched his tongue but not seeming particularly concerned about burning his mouth. 

Len wasn’t sure whether he felt concerned or amused, so he decided to settle on amused.  “It’s not a race, Barry,” he teased. 

Barry made a face at him.  “I’m just impatient – and cold,” he added.  “Winter is _really_ not my season.  I wish I tolerated the cold as well as you do.” 

“Don’t envy me too much,” Len said with a twitch of his lips.  “I have a feeling I’ll be in for an unpleasant summer.” 

Barry winced.  “Fair point.  I guess winter isn’t that bad – if I’m cold, I can always just put on more layers.  Doing the opposite in the summer only gets you so far.” 

Barry’s statement was entirely too nonchalant for the mental image it conjured.  Len felt his face warming faintly, and held out his coffee cup for Barry to take.  Hopefully the distraction of a warm beverage would keep the CSI from noticing Len’s blush. 

Of course, since Len made the mistake of watching Barry’s face, the ruse ended up backfiring spectacularly.  When Barry took a sip of Len’s hot chocolate, his eyebrows rose before he closed his eyes for a second taste.  “This is _really good,_ ” he said, taking a third sip with an appreciative hum that forced Len to suppress a full-body shiver.  How the hell was Barry _doing_ this?  “I might have to start getting this instead of the plain one, at least until the seasonal menu disappears.” 

There was a little bit of steamed milk foam on Barry’s upper lip.  Len forced himself not to look at it.  Somewhere out there, there was a god who hated him.  “I’ll get you one on the way back,” he said. 

Barry set Len’s cup back on the coffee table.  “That would be nice, actually – it’ll keep my hands warm.  Sorry I didn’t ask about paying for your drink, though,” he said with a grimace.  “I should have checked whether you minded or not.” 

He wiped the foam off of his lip with one knuckle, and Len forced himself not to let out a sigh of relief.  “Don’t worry about it,” he said instead.  “Now, what were you saying about Iris?” 

“Oh, right!” Barry brightened immediately at the subject of Iris, and quickly returned to the subject of his original story.  Apparently Iris had been hired to work for Picture News as an investigative journalist, with a focus on stories involving metahumans.  Given what Len remembered of Iris’ freelance blogging, he wasn’t surprised that she’d ended up taking her writing in that direction. 

Len was happy to let Barry ramble while his drink cooled.  He was glad to see him in such good spirits, after the stressful week he seemed to have had following the holidays. 

Eventually, Barry did redirect the conversation to him by asking him about what he’d done with his New Year.  “Mick and I spent it at a bar on his side of town,” Len answered.  “Interesting place.  You ever been to Saints and Sinners?” 

Barry shook his head.  “I’ve never even heard of it.  Was it a fun place?” 

“I’m not sure _fun_ is the word I’d use to describe it,” Len said truthfully.  “It was rough.  Good beer though.”  He debated mentioning the interesting conversation he’d had with the bartender, but quickly decided against it.  Talking about the odd stranger in the glasses would inevitably lead back to the advice he’d given Len, and that wasn’t something Barry needed to know about.  “What about you?  Any big plans?” he asked instead. 

Barry nodded.  “I spent the night at Cisco’s and watched the ball drop.  He was trying to perfect his potatoes au gratin recipe,” he said with a grin at Len.  “It was a bit rough at first, but he got there by his fourth batch or so.” 

“That makes sense,” Len said, reflecting on the timing of Cisco’s invitation to Lisa.  His lips twitched with amusement at the thought that Cisco had taken the time to perfect his potatoes au gratin recipe before daring to ask his sister out.  “Well, if Lisa gets the chance to try it on Friday, I’m sure she’ll be impressed.”

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “No way.  Cisco actually asked her out?” he said, a grin slowly spreading over his face.  “I thought he was kidding when he said that was his New Year’s resolution.” 

“Apparently not,” Len said.  It was cute that Cisco had been trying to work up the nerve, and he found himself hoping the date went well.  “Did you have a New Year’s resolution?” he asked Barry. 

Barry’s smile tensed at the corners.  “It was really more of a self-improvement thing than a specific resolution, but yeah,” he replied.  “I’m gonna try leaning more on the people in my life this year, and trusting people to have my back.  It’s not always easy for me, but it’s important.  And I’m gonna be more honest,” he said, his smile turning wry.  “That _definitely_ won’t be easy, but it’ll be better for me in the long run.” 

 “Sounds like a good resolution to me,” Len replied.  He couldn’t help wondering how many of Barry’s recent problems had stemmed from issues he’d had with family and friends, but it wasn’t his place to ask.  As a fairly private person himself, Len didn’t want to be hypocritical by prying into Barry’s personal life.  If Barry wanted to talk about what had been bothering him, he would let Len know when he was ready.  “You do seem better, though.  Happier.” 

“Really?” Barry said, looking pleased.  “I do feel better.  I’ve had a lot on my mind – not just about the Reverse-Flash stuff,” he said, grimacing at the mention of the yellow speedster before taking a sip of his own drink.  “But yesterday I found out that one of the things I was most worried about isn’t actually going to be as big a problem as I thought.  I guess I’m just relieved.” 

Len nodded.  “The holidays are stressful.  Mick and Lisa were worried enough about my workaholic tendencies to plan a surprise vacation.  Lisa’s calling it an early birthday present.”

“That’s good!” Barry said.  “You’ve been at the station a lot – you could use a break.  When are you leaving?” 

“Mick and I are leaving town Friday night,” Len replied.  “We’re going to be gone for a week.  I don’t want to leave Central for that long, but they’re insisting it will do me good,” he said with a sigh. 

Barry took another sip of his drink, his expression growing thoughtful.  “It’ll be quiet around the station without you,” he said.  “But it’s a good thing you’re getting a break.  You’ve definitely earned it.  Do you know what you’re gonna be doing?” 

“Training, mostly,” Len said, taking a tentative sip of his own hot chocolate, then a longer pull once he confirmed that it had cooled off to the point where he could drink it comfortably.  “During the summer, Mick and I spent some weekends camping.  It’s safer for us to try new things with our powers when we’re in the middle of the wilderness.” 

“So you’re going camping in the middle of winter?” Barry said incredulously.  “Won’t you both freeze to death?” 

“Mick found us a cabin,” Len said, his lips twitching at the memory of his friend telling him about all the long underwear he’d need for the trip.  “I’ll be fine, but it’ll be a bit uncomfortable for him when he isn’t using his powers.  He runs hot, the same way I run cold.” 

“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Barry said, nodding.  “Well I hope it’s fun and that you get  _some_ rest.  We’ll keep the city in one piece while you’re gone.” 

Len sighed inwardly; apparently his tendency to mother-hen the entirety of his hometown was well known.  “Captain Singh said he’d let me know if there were any emergencies.  The cabin has a landline, but cell service in the Ozarks is lousy.” 

“Nothing like a break from the distractions of modern living,” Barry said, smirking briefly before his expression shifted to something more nervous.  “Do you mind if I text you anyway, while you’re gone?  You probably won’t get the messages until you get back, but if I have more ideas about things you could try with your powers, I can just send them to you so I don’t forget them.” 

“Of course you can,” Len said.  It was… oddly sweet to think of Barry sending him texts even though he knew Len wouldn’t be able to read them.  Maybe he and Mick could find a training spot with some elevation midway through the week, and he could see if he had signal.  The break from constant communication was supposed to be part of the appeal of the trip, but as long as he didn’t text Barry _back,_ he wasn’t technically breaking his own rules. 

And there was always a chance that one of Barry’s suggestions for optimizing his powers would come in unexpectedly useful.  He had a good track record so far, since his idea about weaponizing Len’s cold field had saved lives against the Reverse-Flash.  Any text messages he received from Barry would definitely be worth checking, even if Mick gave him a hard time for it. 

They finished their drinks and left Jitters after buying another round of peppermint hot chocolates spiked with espresso, one for Lisa and one for Barry to drink on the walk back.  The CSI wrapped his fingers around the warm drink like a lifeline as they started for the door.

Len’s eyebrows rose fractionally.  Despite Barry’s impressive collection of winter clothing, he still seemed to be dreading the winter outside.  “Do you want my coat?” he asked reflexively.  “It’s not much, but it’ll keep the wind off you.” 

Barry’s eyes went round.  “I couldn’t!” he spluttered.  “Len, that’s the only coat you have!” 

“The cold never bothered me anyway,” Len retorted, unable to resist the joke.  He was rewarded by Barry’s almost-comical expression of dismay.  “I’m serious, though.  If I use my powers, the cold won’t affect me at all, especially not while I’m wearing these gloves,” he said, holding up one hand to show Barry that he was using his Christmas present.  “You’ll have to carry the drinks, though.” 

Barry hesitated, but when he reached out to take the second hot chocolate from Len, he knew that he had won. 

When they stepped outside, Len allowed himself to feel the cold for several seconds before turning his focus inward.  He was fairly comfortable with this finer-scale application of his powers, even if it did require concentration.  Taking a deep breath, Len focused on drawing the cold at his center outward, as if he was preparing to fire an ice blast, but not using it.  The result was that the temperature of his skin dropped drastically – and since temperature receptors in the skin were only good at sensing relative temperature, the chill January wind would feel like a refreshing breeze as long as Len was able to maintain his focus. 

Len was pleased that he’d figured out the strategy, and more so that it seemed to be working like a charm.  This technique wouldn’t be all that useful in a fight, but it gave him the edge on winter days like this one.  As an added bonus, since he was maintaining focus on regulating his temperature, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by Barry too much. 

All the same, there was still a small part of Len that couldn’t help watching the way Barry’s fingers gripped the drinks for warmth and wishing that he was a more daring man.  If not for the hot chocolates he was carrying, Len could have reached out and taken Barry’s hand. 

Len shook his head.  His sense of self-preservation had been lacking enough today already, so it was probably for the best that their hands were otherwise occupied. 

* * *

 

Barry decided to take the long route to STAR Labs after his shift ended, to let off some of the pent-up energy left over from his coffee outing with Len.  He was trying not to read too much into how well it had gone, since it wasn’t a date by any stretch of the imagination, but a small, hopeful part of him was still riding the giddy rush. 

Buoyed by how well the mess at STAR Labs had resolved itself, Barry had been feeling more daring than usual that afternoon, and when things started going his way, he’d decided to take advantage of his good luck.  Maybe he’d been a little reckless – he probably shouldn’t have bought Len’s drink for him, or asked to try a sip of what he’d ordered – but nothing bad had happened.  If anything, Len had seemed a bit thrown by Barry’s forwardness, but not put off by it.  Maybe Iris had been onto something when she said that the detective was interested in him. 

He’d even been feeling bold enough to risk  _flirting_ with Len, even if it had just been briefly.  It wasn’t something Barry was okay with doing more of, not until he told Len the truth about his identity – there was no point in stringing himself along and getting his hopes up, if it turned out that Len would just end up being pissed off at him for not telling him the truth sooner.  But it had been nice, taking a more reckless approach, even if it was just for an hour.  

As tempted as he was to tell at least one of his friends about his own daring – probably Iris, since she knew the most about his crush in the first place – he’d be keeping this one to himself.  If anyone at STAR Labs asked, the only reason he was smiling was because he was so excited about Cisco and Dr. Wells scrubbing every last trace of the Reverse-Flash from their hard drives. 

Following the breather they’d taken in the pipeline tunnel the day before, Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin had returned to the Cortex, ready to begin the work of purging any remaining digital landmines from their system.  As Barry and Cisco had expected, it hadn’t been an easy process.  Whatever code the Reverse-Flash had used on the trap had been worked deeply into their systems, and after over an hour of work had failed to untangle the mess, Dr. Wells and Cisco had decided that it would be better to completely quarantine the affected servers, wipe them, and restore the backup that had been made two days prior to their attempt to trap the Reverse-Flash.  It meant losing over ten days’ worth of data, but in the long run it was better than risking the security of STAR Labs, and potentially exposing their operations to bugs that their software deep-cleaning failed to remove. 

A few of the most important pieces of data, like the security camera footage from the night of the trap, had been copied onto separate one-terabyte hard drives for storage, just in case they were ever needed again.  Still, all of them knew that opening those files on STAR Labs’ computers in the future would risk exposing their systems to malware again.  Unless there was an emergency, or a new lead arose on the Reverse-Flash, it was unlikely that they’d be taking that risk. 

After that, all four of them had gone home for the day.  Wiping the STAR Labs servers and restoring them from the backup would take nearly a full twenty-four hours, especially with all the extra security protocols they’d added to make sure that nothing squirrelly made it onto their systems from the old backup.  During that time, Barry had been forced to keep the streets safe the old-fashioned way – with a police scanner and lots and lots of legwork.  It had been exhausting, but Barry had gained a newfound appreciation for just how much STAR Labs’ tech streamlined the process of his extracurricular vigilante activities.  Without STAR Labs, it would be all too easy to let criminals and metahumans slip through the cracks.  

But now that over a day had passed, STAR Labs would probably be back up and running, and, most importantly, free of the Reverse-Flash’s malware.  They’d have to be vigilant to make sure the Reverse-Flash didn’t try and sneak back into their systems somehow, but for the time being they’d be free to move onto other important problems. 

Like the problem that was first and foremost on Barry’s list – what to do about Martin and Ronnie. 

Since STAR Labs was now safe to use, Barry had been able to turn his full attention onto how best to solve the Firestorm problem.  The first thing they had to do was find him, but he was confident that STAR Labs’ satellite would at least give them somewhere to begin.  He wished they had facial recognition software, but they’d never used it in any of their previous metahuman cases, so he was willing to bet that it wasn’t on their systems. 

Maybe he could convince Felicity to help get them a duplicate of what Oliver’s team used.  Dr. Wells might put up a fuss about using any tech that came from the Arrow, but there weren’t any reasonable objections he could make to some good facial recognition software. 

Once they tracked Firestorm down, the hard part would begin.  At this point, Barry was fairly confident that Martin wouldn’t have any memory of talking to him on the night of Clarissa’s holiday party, so in that regard they were back to square one.  But Barry _had_ learned that Martin instinctively gravitated to familiar places and faces, even if he wasn’t sure why.  Being at his own house and speaking to his foster son had been good for him, and Barry was willing to bet that the more friendly faces there were, the easier time they would have convincing Martin and Ronnie to come back to STAR Labs with them. 

For Ronnie’s side of things, they had his fiancée Caitlin and his friend Cisco.  Dr. Wells would probably help, although he’d leave that up to the man’s discretion – it was entirely possible that he’d prefer to stay in STAR Labs and coordinate the operation. 

On Martin’s side, they had Barry – and they also had Clarissa. 

Now that they were putting the pieces together for a rescue, it was long past time that Barry told his foster mother everything.  He wasn’t relishing the conversation, especially because he wasn’t sure how she would react.  He didn’t even know how _he_ would react in a situation like this – would he be happy to hear that his loved one was alive, or would he be pissed at having the information kept from him?  Without any way to know for sure how Clarissa would feel, he was nervous about finally coming clean. 

He’d already called her while he was at work and left a voicemail asking her to meet him at STAR Labs after his shift, so there was no going back now.  He’d just have to cross his fingers and hope that everything went okay. 

When he dashed through the door of the Cortex, he saw that he was the last person to arrive.  Clarissa was already there, and was engaged in an apparently-heated conversation with Dr. Wells and Caitlin.  Barry skidded to a stop, suddenly feeling like he was missing something.  “Guys, what’s going on?” 

“Barry!” Clarissa said, looking visibly relieved.  “That voicemail you left nearly gave me a heart attack.  You can’t just tell me to come down to STAR Labs for an urgent meeting without giving any specific details!  I thought there was something wrong with you!” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Sh- sorry, Clarissa!” he said, feeling instantly guilty.  “I didn’t realize you’d be worried!  I promise, I’m fine – this meeting isn’t actually about me at all.”  He took a deep breath and decided to go ahead and bite the bullet.  “It’s about Martin.”

Clarissa’s stern expression immediately morphed into one of confusion.  “Martin?” she echoed.  “Have you found something?”

“We’ve found out a lot of somethings,” Barry said, biting his lip and forcing himself to meet her eyes.  “We think we know what happened to him on the night the particle accelerator exploded – and we think we know where to find him.”

For the second time in as many days, Barry related the story of how he and Caitlin had gradually unraveled the truth about Firestorm, from Barry’s encounter with the metahuman under the bridge to their realization that Firestorm was actually Caitlin’s fiancé.  As Barry explained what had happened the night of the holiday party, he wasn’t surprised to see tears in his foster mother’s eyes, but it still hurt.

“We think that the particle accelerator explosion merged Martin and Ronnie into one person,” he said, forcing himself to look at Clarissa’s face as she digested his words.  Her confusion was gradually giving way to horror as she realized the implications of what Barry was saying.  “They’re – struggling to function,” Barry continued, trying to figure out what else he could possibly say.

Dr. Wells took advantage of Barry’s hesitation and stepped in.  “Dr. Stein’s brain is doing the driving, to put it crudely, but Mr. Raymond is fighting with him for control.  Barry described symptoms that are reminiscent of dissociative identity disorder.”

“But he still knows who we are!” Barry said hurriedly as Clarissa covered her mouth, tears beginning to run down her face again.  “On the night of the holiday party, he recognized me and he knew he was at his house.  He said he’d tried to talk to you once before – do you remember that?”

“He wouldn’t have looked like himself, so it’s not surprising that you didn’t realize who it was,” said Caitlin reassuringly.  She walked over to the monitor and pressed a few keys, opening the image of her and Ronnie in party hats that Barry had seen in the photo collage at her apartment.    

Clarissa drew in a sharp breath.  “I do recognize him.  A man who looked just like your fiancé broke into our home, a few days after the accident.  Are you saying that was Martin?”

Barry could see the self-recrimination on her face, so he crossed the Cortex and pulled his foster mom into a hug.  “Clarissa, it wasn’t your fault,” he said, feeling relief wash over him when she put her arms around him in return.  “There was absolutely no way you could have known that it was Martin who broke into your house, not when he didn’t look like himself and couldn’t remember his own name.”

“I know,” Clarissa said, her voice only slightly wobbly.  “But I still feel like I should have recognized him somehow.  Even if he’s wearing a different face, he’s still my husband.”

Barry’s heart ached, and he gave Clarissa a final squeeze before releasing her.  “I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you,” he said around the lump in his throat.  “At first I wasn’t sure how Firestorm was connected to Martin – I thought he might have been involved in the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. research somehow, but I had no idea that Martin was running around in someone else’s body this entire time.  I didn’t want to get your hopes up when there was still so much we didn’t know.”

“I don’t blame you, Barry,” said Clarissa, giving Barry a tired but genuine smile.  “You were making the best of a difficult situation.  I don’t know that I would have done anything differently had I been in your place.”

Barry felt like a massive weight had been removed from his shoulders, and he took a deep breath before nodding in reply, not trusting himself to speak.

“Fortunately, there’s a possibility that we might be able to help both of our missing friends at the same time,” Dr. Wells continued, ending the heartfelt moment.  “As Barry explained, Dr. Stein seems to react positively to the presence of his loved ones.  It’s very likely that Caitlin and Cisco’s presence will have a similarly pacifying effect on Ronnie Raymond.  I’m confident that if the five of us take to the field together, we’ll be able to convince them to return to STAR Labs with us.”

“Dr. Wells, you’re coming too?” Cisco said, sounding surprised.  “I thought you wanted to work ops.”

“I’ve reconsidered,” Dr. Wells replied.  “It’s been some time since I took a more active role, and I miss it.  Besides,” he continued, his mouth thinning into a line, “Dr. Stein and Ronnie are both colleagues of mine.  I’ve been given a chance to rectify a mistake, and it’s only fitting that I see it through.”

As Dr. Wells and Cisco began brainstorming solutions for how to find Firestorm using the surveillance equipment they already had, Barry couldn’t help but feel relieved that Dr. Wells seemed to be back to his usual decisive self.   He still wasn’t sure what exactly had been bothering his mentor yesterday, but whatever inner conflict he’d been tossing around seemed to have been resolved.

It didn’t take long for them to come up with a few preliminary ideas for solving their tracking problem.  Unfortunately, none of them were as efficient as what Barry had been hoping for.  “Firestorm’s powers are based on fusion reactions, which generate heat and light,” Cisco explained.  “The problem is that we’re in a major urban area.  Even if Ronnie and Martin were using their powers right now, there’s too much background noise for us to see much.”

“That is, unless they created a power output roughly equivalent to a small thermonuclear detonation,” Dr. Wells said wryly.

Barry cringed.  “Yeah, let’s not do that.  So are you saying we can’t use the satellite at all?” he continued, beginning to feel alarmed.  Without facial recognition software, the satellite was the best bet they had, unless they decided to do something illegal.  Barry didn’t have any problems with borrowing the CCPD’s facial recognition software and traffic cam access for a few hours, but he didn’t have much confidence in his ability to do it quickly and undetectably, especially since he wouldn’t have Cisco’s help.  He found himself wishing he’d taken Felicity up on her offer to learn some programming – he really wasn’t much of a hacker.  

“I’m saying the satellite won’t be much use to us, _yet,”_ Cisco said, holding up a finger.  “Central is a major urban area, but it isn’t like New York.  Things do quiet down at night, especially in the winter.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “And the colder and quieter the city gets, the more it’ll stand out if Firestorm uses their powers.” 

“Exactly,” hummed Dr. Wells, looking pleased by Barry’s analysis.  “We may not get immediate results, but we should be able to find them.” 

Barry wished they had a faster strategy – he didn’t want to leave Martin and Ronnie alone out there in the cold, whether their tech would allow for better solutions or not.  But they at least had some plan of action, and that was more than they’d had an hour ago.  “We should set up a few target searches at places that are important to Martin and Ronnie,” he said.  “Firestorm has shown up at the Stein house more than once, so there’s a chance he could keep following that pattern.” 

A part of Barry expected everyone to disperse once it became clear they wouldn’t be able to immediately mount a rescue mission, but none of them seemed inclined to leave, including himself.  Clarissa was taking advantage of the visit to catch up with Dr. Wells, and while Cisco and Caitlin were lurking over by the monitors, they were only half focused on running numbers.  Most of their attention was devoted to conversation, mainly stories about Ronnie that Barry was only able to catch bits and pieces of.

Even though he felt a bit out of the loop, Barry couldn’t help smiling faintly at the casual atmosphere.  Considering how worried all of them were about Martin and Ronnie, it was better to have people relaxed and talking to each other than waiting tensely for Cisco’s algorithms to give them some sort of answer.

Things were in motion now, and that was what mattered.  The rest of the hunt for Firestorm would be a mixture of waiting and preparation.  In an ideal world, Dr. Wells would have figured out a way to separate Martin and Ronnie safely by the time they were able to bring him back to STAR Labs, but Barry had no idea whether or not his mentor would be able to move that quickly.  Dr. Wells was a scientist, not a miracle-worker.

If they were able to stabilize Firestorm enough to give Martin some control over his memories, they might actually have an easier time coming up with a safe and effective solution.  The F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. research was convoluted, and it wasn’t something that Dr. Wells had worked on directly, even though he had been in contact with some of the people involved in the project.  Still, that wasn’t the same as hands-on experience.  With Dr. Wells _and_ Martin on the case, their odds of success would be much higher.

Barry’s phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him out of his thoughts.  He pulled it out, hoping to see a message from Len, but his eyebrows rose when he saw the number on his screen.  He didn’t have Bette listed in his contacts, figuring that it was better to be safe than sorry.  Even her alias, Jane Conway, hadn’t been listed; anyone digging into her would have immediately found it odd that Barry was friends with a freelance writer who lived in Keystone City.  He’d committed the phone number to memory at this point, which had been easy to do since her area code wasn’t from Central or Starling, the only places Barry had ever lived.

He wondered what she was texting him about.  The two of them had agreed to delete all of each other’s messages after receiving them, when they’d first exchanged numbers, and Bette tended to only text back at night.  The deviation from her usual pattern made Barry feel a bit uneasy, but not so much that he wasn’t going to open his phone and check the message.

To his relief, it wasn’t an emergency of any sort – but it did surprise him.   _Thanks for the tips,_ it read.   _Coming to Central this weekend to visit a few places.  Coffee?  We can find someplace out of the way._

Barry hesitated, biting his lip.  He’d have to be completely dense not to miss the overtures of friendship that Bette had been making since he’d shown up on her doorstep in Keystone the previous week, but what he didn’t understand was why she was bothering to make the effort.  It wasn’t like Barry was an easy person to get to know.  He was guarded and suspicious a lot of the time, and he _had_ also massively invaded Bette’s privacy by secretly tracking her location for multiple months, whether there was prior justification for his concern or not.

But Barry’s New Year’s resolution had been to trust his friends more, and while he wasn’t sure what exactly Bette wanted, he was pretty sure that she was someone he could trust to be on the level.

_You know what?  Fuck it,_ he thought, deciding to take the risk.  As long as they went to somewhere in Central that was far away from the precinct and STAR Labs, there wasn’t a high chance that they’d be recognized.  And he wanted to get coffee with Bette – it wasn’t like he could afford to turn down friends, seeing as he didn’t really have any friends in Central aside from people at work and Team Flash.

_Sounds good, I should have time this weekend,_ he sent before deleting their entire conversation from his phone.  First Len, now Bette – maybe risky coffee not-dates were the first hot new trend of 2015.

“You look happy about something,” Caitlin said, and Barry jumped.  “Was that Len?”

“No!” Barry yelped, before realizing belatedly that he could have just lied and told everyone in the room that he’d been texting his crush.  Now he was going to have to come up with an actual story.  “It’s – someone I’ve been apartment-hunting with,” he said quickly, choosing the story that most closely resembled the truth.  “They put out an ad for a roommate and I’m thinking about taking them up on it.”

“Nice!” Cisco said, nodding approvingly.  “You know, if my lease wasn’t already locked in, I would have been cool to live with you.”

“Oh well – at least this way I can still come over for movie marathons,” Barry teased, flattered that Cisco would have considered him good housemate material, even if it was just a hypothetical situation.  “And besides, now that you and Lisa are a thing, I might not want to be sharing an apartment with you anyway.”

The jab immediately diverted the entire room’s attention away from Barry and onto Cisco, who was now turning the approximate color of the Flash suit.  “Dude,” he whined.  “It’s just a date!  How’d you even find out about that, anyway?  I asked her literally first thing yesterday morning.”

“Uh,” Barry retorted intelligently, feeling his own face beginning to turn red.  He might have miscalculated this one.  “Len might have told me before work this afternoon?”

Cisco’s jaw dropped.  “Holy shit.  Barry, did we both bag our Snarts within a forty-eight hour window?  Is this some kind of synchronized-dating world record?”

_“No!”_ Barry protested.  He wondered if it was possible for him to spontaneously combust if his face got any warmer.  His _foster mother_ was in the room, for fuck’s sake!  “I didn’t bag anybody – we literally just bumped into each other at Jitters!  It wasn’t even a date!”

“Is this the same person who brought that wonderful sweet potato casserole to the holiday party?” Clarissa asked, a faint gleam of mischief in her eyes.  “He was very polite.  And handsome too, of course.”

Barry spluttered.  “Well – uh – Cisco spent the entire night on New Year’s trying out potatoes au gratin recipes!” he said, pointing a finger at the engineer dramatically.  “He made five different versions and invited me over to help him eat all the extra!”

Cisco’s blush re-emerged.  “You traitor,” he gasped.  “I take back every nice thing I said about wanting to live with you.  Clearly you only love me for the food.”

Dr. Wells wheeled forward slightly.  “As adorable as this is, I think we’ve all neglected to notice something very important,” he said, gesturing toward the STAR Labs monitors.

The room fell silent, and Cisco stared at the screen in confusion before his eyes widened.

Barry was at his side in an instant.  “What?  What is it?” he said, eyes roving over the screen as he tried to take in the information that Cisco’s algorithm was feeding them.  “Is it something about Firestorm?”

“Actually, yeah,” Cisco said, sounding like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.  “We’re getting a read on him.  And according to the coordinates on the screen, he’s right outside STAR Labs.”

Barry, Caitlin, and Clarissa met each other’s eyes for a second before Barry dashed for the mannequin holding his suit and changed into it, not caring about the other people who were present.  He was moving too fast for them to see, and the most important thing was that they get to Firestorm, _now._ “We need a plan,” he said once he’d finished changing.  “We might only get one shot at this – we have to make sure we don’t scare him off.”

“I agree,” Dr. Wells said with a nod.  “I’d hoped to have more time to prepare, but as it we’ll have to work with what we have.  Between the four of you,” he said, looking at Barry, Cisco, Caitlin, and Clarissa in turn, “I have every confidence that we’ll be able to convince Firestorm that we mean them no harm.”

“Hold on – the four of us?” Cisco said.  “I thought you wanted to help.”

“If we’d had more warning, I would have enjoyed the opportunity to take to the field,” Dr. Wells said.  “Truth be told, I’d expected a stakeout at the Stein residence would be our best chance at finding Firestorm.  As it is, now that they’re here, we’ll need a different approach.”  Dr. Wells approached the keyboard, his fingers flying over the keys until the security camera footage for the STAR Labs front entrance appeared in a separate window on the monitor.

Barry’s breath caught in his lungs.  Firestorm was right there, pacing back and forth in front of the doors.  “We’re going to have to move fast,” he said, feeling as if time was dilating around him.  “They probably have no idea why they stopped here, but if we don’t get to them quickly-”

“-Then there’s no telling where they might go next,” Dr. Wells finished.  “My thoughts exactly, Barry.  I’ll stay here and monitor the security cameras and footage.  Cisco, take one of the walkie-talkies,” he continued.  “We won’t be able to rely on the Flash suit for communications, since we need Dr. Stein to recognize Barry’s face.  If I start getting abnormal readings, I’ll signal for you to clear the area.  The last thing we need is for anyone to go up in flames trying to help them,” he said, looking over the rims of his glasses at the four of them, but at Barry especially.  “It’s not what Ronnie or Dr. Stein would want.”

Barry nodded slowly, feeling the importance of the moment settling into him.  The last time he’d seen Martin, he hadn’t been prepared enough or reacted quickly enough to help his foster dad.  But things would be different this time.  It wasn’t just him anymore – all the important people in Martin’s life, and in Ronnie’s life, were together in one place.

It was time for them to fix a mistake and bring their loved ones home, for good.

Barry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.  “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Firestorm situation is heating up! :D I hated to end the chapter here, but I've started writing the next scene already and it's going to be a long one, so I had to split it where it made sense. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always!


	29. The Mother of Invention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the ashes of NaNoWriMo like a phoenix* GUESS WHO'S BACK Y'ALL
> 
> It's been a long month of writing but a really good one! I successfully completed NaNoWriMo for the first time and managed to write 50k words in November! Not all of them were for this fic, but a good portion of what I wrote was stuff that I'll be able to use for it, either within the next couple chapters or down the line. I had a great time writing, but I'm happy to be back and starting the weekend with a new chapter! 
> 
> I'll be replying to comments later in the weekend since I'm currently spending the night with my best friend, but thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter. Your reviews kept me company through NaNo and I'm very grateful.

The four of them walked in silence as they made their way down to the front entrance of STAR Labs.  While a part of Barry wished someone would say something, for the most part he was relieved for the quiet. 

He darted a quick glance at Cisco’s hands, which were wrapped in a white-knuckled grip around the radio that Dr. Wells had sent down with them.  It was weird, having this many people by his side when he took to the field.  Most of the time he was out there alone, except for the occasions when he and Len had ended up working together, and ordinarily Barry didn’t mind it. 

This time, it was the silent presence of his family and friends that was giving him the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  It was almost funny.  Saving complete strangers was part of the job description when it came to being the Flash, but the chance to help his own foster dad – and the possibility of failing – was scarier than almost anything else he’d faced while wearing the mask. 

It was different when it was family who needed him. 

They stopped in front of the sliding doors, and Barry took the opportunity to break the silence and offer the only advice he could.  “Be careful,” he said, “and watch their eyes.  If they turn white, it means they’re close to losing control.” 

Clarissa, Cisco, and Caitlin nodded at him silently.  With a deep breath, Barry pressed a gloved hand to the plate on the side of the wall, and the doors whooshed open. 

To Barry’s relief, Firestorm was still outside where they’d last seen them.  They didn’t react to the noise of the door opening, but they did startle when they saw four people emerge from inside the building.  “Why are you here?” they said, scrambling backward to the very edge of the bright area illuminated by the floodlights.  “You need to stay away from me.” 

Barry held out an arm, and to his relief his three companions halted behind him.  He knew they all wanted to help, but they had to be careful – if they crowded Firestorm too badly, they could spook them, which would lead to bursting into flames and a hasty retreat on everyone’s part.  It would be better for them to take this slow.  “Martin!” he called, and to his relief, Firestorm stilled.  “It’s me, Barry!  I’ve brought some other people who wanted to see you.  Can we talk to you?  We just want to help.” 

Firestorm shook their head slowly, but to Barry’s relief they’d stopped moving away.  That was a good sign.  “I already told you, I don’t want anyone to see me like this.  It isn’t safe.” 

Barry’s heart caught in his chest.  It wasn’t an outright denial, and the fact that Firestorm had referenced previous conversations he’d had with Barry was a good sign.  Maybe some of his buried memories were beginning to come back to him.  “I promise we’re going to make sure we stay safe,” he answered.  “But we can take care of ourselves while also helping you.  Do you recognize the other people with me?” 

Firestorm nodded.  “I see – Clarissa,” he said, a different note of fear entering his voice.  “I told you, I didn’t want her to _see-”_

“Martin!” Clarissa called, and Firestorm immediately fell silent.  “I know you must be frightened, but please, let us help you.  We see you, and we love you.”  Firestorm nodded again, slower this time, and Barry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.  “Now, can you listen to Barry and tell us who these other people are?”

Firestorm peered back at Cisco and Caitlin, his forehead furrowing in puzzlement.  “I don’t know them.  But the other one – he knows them.  He loves them.” 

Barry swallowed.  “The other.  Do you mean Ronnie Raymond?  Is he the voice you’re hearing?” 

“That’s him,” Firestorm replied.  “He wants to go home – to her,” he said, pointing at Caitlin.  “But we can’t go home.  It isn’t safe.” 

“Maybe you can’t go home to Clarissa and Caitlin right away, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come to STAR Labs with us,” Barry said soothingly.  “Doctor Wells will be able to help you, and we have an entire research facility that you’ll be able to use.” 

Caitlin took a step forward.  “There’s also a chance that we’ll be able to come up with something to help stabilize your mental state.” 

“We’re here for you, man.  For both of you,” Cisco said quietly. 

Firestorm looked back and forth from one face to another, and Barry had to remind himself to keep breathing as the silence stretched on. 

Finally, Firestorm’s gaze came to rest on Barry’s face.  There was an almost-invisible light in his expression that hadn’t been there before, and it had nothing to do with flames.  “You… think this is something that can be fixed?”

Barry nodded.  “I think it can.  We all believe in both of you.  We can do this together.”

Firestorm’s eyes closed slowly.  “Okay.  I’ll come with you.” Barry’s heart leapt, but they continued speaking.  “I can’t promise I’ll stay.  If it isn’t safe – they might still be watching me.  I won’t become a danger to you all, not again.”

Barry felt a shiver run down his spine, and he exchanged a glance with Cisco, and Caitlin.  What did Firestorm mean when they said they were being watched?  The last thing he wanted to deal with was more shadowy threats, especially since they’d just shaken off the shackles of the Reverse-Flash. 

But Firestorm was family, and at the end of the day the risks simply couldn’t matter.  “We’re going to make sure that nothing happens to you, or to any of us,” Barry said, hoping he could follow through on that promise. 

Getting Firestorm into the building and up to the Cortex proved to be a slow process.  They wouldn’t ride in the elevator unless they were alone, which upon inquiry turned out to be because they were terrified of losing control of their powers and accidentally turning their fellow passengers into charcoal briquettes.  None of them were in a position to argue with _that_ particular train of logic, but there was also no way they were going to let Firestorm ride the elevator by themself.  Barry could have run up to the top floor and intercepted them, but there were too many uncertainties about what Firestorm would do if left alone. 

Eventually, they ended up taking the stairs.  It was a laborious process.  Firestorm seemed to be in better spirits now that they were inside, but they were in poor physical condition despite the fact that Ronnie’s body had clearly been very healthy at the beginning of their ordeal.  Barry supposed that living under bridges for the better part of a year would do that to a person, but the thought still gripped at his chest like a vice. 

By the time they made it to the Cortex, Barry’s nerves were jangling with pent-up anxiety and he was having to force himself to continue taking deep breaths.  Some of the strain on his nerves eased when Firestorm allowed Caitlin to coax them onto a gurney and administer some basic medical treatment, but he couldn’t allow himself to relax his vigilance entirely.  They weren’t out of the woods yet. 

He pulled Cisco and Dr. Wells into a huddle, taking advantage of Caitlin and Clarissa’s continued presence at Firestorm’s bedside to prevent the metahuman from overhearing.  “Well, he’s here.  That was the first step,” Barry said, glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure that they weren’t attracting too much attention.  “Now what?” 

“I think some of that will be up to Doctor Stein,” said Dr. Wells, looking at Barry over the rims of his glasses.  “Our primary focus should be stabilizing his neurological condition.  Caitlin’s baseline scans show that his resting heart rate and core temperature are elevated compared to a normal human’s, but other than that, he doesn’t seem to be suffering from any undue physical stress.  The sooner we can return his mind to him, the sooner he’ll be able to assist us in our efforts to restore his original body.” 

“But what will messing with Firestorm’s consciousness do to Ronnie?” Cisco asked, chewing his lip nervously.  “The two of them are basically cohabitating in there right now, even if it’s rough.  If we push Ronnie down enough that Martin is able to do his thing, how do we know that it won’t hurt Ronnie in the long run?” 

The three of them fell silent, looking at each other.  Barry couldn’t help but feel like he had no place speaking, because the truth of the matter was that while he did care about what happened to  Ronnie, he cared about Martin more.

“I think that whatever happens in regards to Firestorm’s treatment should be left to Caitlin’s discretion,” Dr. Wells eventually said.  “Of the people in this room, she is the one most qualified to administer medical care, and she’s also Ronnie’s fiancée.” 

In the end, Caitlin administered Firestorm a combination of anti-psychotics, depressants, and mood stabilizers.  “It’s a combination used to treat some forms of dissociative identity disorder,” she said, looking over at the prone form sleeping on the gurney.  Firestorm had fallen asleep on their own, probably exhausted from the combination of emotional stress and the long climb up the STAR Labs stairs.  “I’ll ask them how they’re feeling when they wake up, and refine my dosage based on that feedback.” 

“Do you think he’ll burn through the medication faster?” Barry said, thinking of his own metabolism. 

“I doubt there’s any way to say for certain how Firestorm’s system will react to the medication – not without running some tests,” Dr. Wells said.  “We can perform some baseline system scans while they’re asleep, but I’d also like some conscious input from our patients if they’re up to it.”  He looked at them over the rims of his glasses.  “However, there is still one thing we should discuss.” 

Barry immediately felt nervous.  Dr. Wells was bringing out his intense face.  “And that is?” 

“If either half of Firestorm becomes destabilized, they could lose control of their powers,” Dr. Wells said.  “At that point, they would be placing the facility, and us, at grave risk.  We need to come up with potential solutions for containing them, should anything go wrong.” 

Clarissa nodded.  “As troubling as it sounds, I’m certain it’s what Martin would want.” 

“Ronnie, too.”  Caitlin looked unhappy, but the conviction in her eyes was clear.  “Both of them didn’t want to risk coming back here in case they lost control.  If anything, they’d probably find it reassuring if we had some kind of containment measures in place.” 

“We have to make sure it’s something that won’t hurt them,” Barry said.  “If they think they’re in danger, they might act instinctively to defend themselves, which would just make things worse.” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “I agree, Barry.  And I just might have a solution that meets our criteria.  It’s a bit unconventional, but it would do in a pinch, with a few slight modifications.” 

“What are you thinking?” Cisco said, looking curious. 

Dr. Wells took a deep breath.  “We could use the pipeline.” 

A shocked silence fell.  Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin all glanced at each other.  “Uh.  Doctor Wells,” Cisco said.  “Isn’t that sort of… inhumane?” 

“Hear me out,” Dr. Wells said with a single shake of his head.  “Obviously the particle accelerator itself wouldn’t work as any sort of containment unit – it’s much too large.  But the dampening pods that line the walls of the accelerator are self-contained.  They wouldn’t work as holding cells for any length of time, but they have sufficient reinforcement to stand up to Firestorm if they need somewhere isolated to cool down.” 

“Like a quiet room,” Barry mused. 

Cisco still looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t look like he’d completely ruled the idea out.  “What if a confined space just made Firestorm more upset?”

“We’d have to ask them, once they’re no longer asleep,” Dr. Wells said.  “Since they’re our friends and not our prisoners, a plan like this would only be a last resort.  If they consent to a safeguard like this, I see no reason why the pipeline can’t be an effective short-term solution, in case of emergency.” 

Barry nodded slowly.  “As long as we ask them, I guess it’s a decent option.  What do you guys think?” he said, looking around at the rest of the group assembled in the Cortex. 

“It seems like a good way to reduce risk, even if I’m not happy about it,” Caitlin said.  “But whatever Firestorm decides, it’s too late at night to wake them up.  We should let them rest until tomorrow morning.” 

“I’ll stay with them,” Cisco said immediately.  “If they wake up during the night and can’t sleep, I can administer a sedative.” 

Caitlin shook her head.  “I’m the closest thing we have to a doctor.  If anyone has to stay, it’s me.” 

“Calm down, everyone,” Dr. Wells said, holding up a hand.  “While your haste to martyr your own sleep schedules on Firestorm’s behalf is admirable, there are plenty of cots to go around.  If all of you are determined to sleep here, there should be sufficient space.” 

Barry glanced at his foster mother.  Clarissa looked stricken, and Barry realized she was trying to decide whether or not to spend the night at STAR Labs.  He should probably try and talk her out of it – as worried as she was about Martin, it was unlikely that anything would happen tonight, and sleeping on a rickety STAR Labs cot would be bad for her back.  Besides, if there was a real emergency, Barry could run her back to the Cortex in less than two minutes.  “Let’s go back to your house tonight,” he told her.  “We can come over here first thing in the morning and check on them.  I’ve got plenty of time before my shift.” 

Clarissa hesitated, then looked at Caitlin.  “I know Barry’s just trying to save an old woman from a night on a bad bed, but I do worry.  You’ll call me if anything happens, right?” 

Caitlin nodded.  “I promise I will.” 

Once they’d finished saying their goodbyes, Barry followed Clarissa to her car and climbed in the passenger seat, ducking his head to avoid the doorframe. 

Clarissa turned on the ignition as soon as she sat down, and the car rumbled to life.  Barry reached across the dashboard and turned the heat all the way up, angling both of his vents to point more directly at his chest.  “I’d vibrate to warm myself up, but I don’t think that would be good for your cushions,” he said apologetically, then stopped when he caught sight of the frozen expression on his foster mother’s face.  “Clarissa?” he said, his shoulders tensing.  “Are you okay?” 

Clarissa took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.  “I’m fine,” she said.  “It’s just – it’s a lot to process.  Martin is _alive,_ Barry.  And he’s right there.”  She turned to look at STAR Labs through the window of the car. 

Barry smiled softly.  “Tell you what,” he said.  “How about I trade seats with you and drive us home?” 

“Oh, don’t be absurd,” Clarissa said.  “There’s absolutely no need-”

“You’d really be doing me a favor,” Barry said, opening the passenger door and speeding around the front of the car before Clarissa could protest any further.  “Between my superpowers and my lack of vehicle ownership, I don’t think I’ve driven a car in over a year.  If I don’t drive at some point, I might forget how.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Clarissa muttered good-naturedly, but she climbed out of the driver’s seat regardless. 

* * *

True to their word, Barry and Clarissa were back at STAR Labs bright and early the next morning.

“No words,” Cisco muttered when they entered the Cortex.  “Just coffee.”  He pressed two mugs into Barry and Clarissa’s hands. 

As Barry sniffed the mug’s contents, the smell of coffee hit him in the face like a ton of bricks.  “Cisco,” he said, eyeing the mug skeptically, “are you sure this is safe for human consumption?”

“It does seem a bit strong,” Clarissa said. 

“There’s cream and sugar in the breakroom,” Dr. Wells interjected.  He took a sip from his own mug.  “I don’t normally imbibe this heavily, but these are exceptional circumstances.” 

“Doctor Wells – you’re here early,” Barry said, his eyebrows rising into his hairline as he took a proper look at his mentor.  Dr. Wells looked, for lack of a better word, _disheveled._ His normally-neat hair was messy, his shirt was wrinkled, and there was a very visible smudge on the left lens of his glasses.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but – did you sleep?  At all?” 

“Nope,” Dr. Wells said, smiling in a slightly-lopsided way that Barry honestly found alarming, considering how reserved his mentor usually was.  “I decided to get an early start on potential solutions for our friends there.” 

He nodded toward the gurney, where Firestorm was, by some miracle, still sleeping.  Barry wondered if they’d been sedated during the night or if they were really just that tired.  “Did you find anything?” 

“Unfortunately, my search didn’t turn up many promising options,” Dr. Wells hummed.  He took another, longer drink from his mug.  “I’m looking forward to going to the drawing board with Professor Stein, once Firestorm awakens, but I suspect that all of our options will either be limited by safety concerns or by the sheer amount of energy required to power a viable device.” 

Barry glanced sideways at Clarissa and saw that she was nodding in comprehension.  His lips twitched; this sort of physics-oriented shop talk was the sort of thing she was used to, between dealing with Martin and Barry. 

“What kind of power levels are we talking here?” Cisco said, his exhausted expression becoming more alert at the prospect of a problem to solve.  “If it’s a matter of finding the right battery, I’ve actually been working on some experimental power cells that might help.” 

Dr. Wells smiled wryly.  “While I have the utmost faith in you, Cisco, I’m not sure any prefabricated power cells will be entirely up to the challenge.  Professor Stein and Ronnie were combined into a single person through a fusion reaction.  Reversing that reaction in a controlled, safe manner will require an equal amount of energy, if not more.  I’m simply not sure that anything we have at STAR Labs will be up to the task.” 

Barry bit his lip.  He’d never seen his team run into a problem that they couldn’t immediately solve, or at least start brainstorming solutions for.  If Dr. Wells had been trying to come up with solutions for an entire night already, that wasn’t particularly promising for their odds.  “Do we know when Martin and Ronnie will wake up?” he asked his mentor.  “Maybe if you and Martin put your heads together, you’ll be able to think of something.” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “It’s probably prudent to wait for additional counsel before we proceed further,” he said.  “I’m sure Professor Stein will be able to make some valuable contributions.  Fusion reactions are more his area of expertise than mine.” 

Beside him, Clarissa snorted.  “Harrison,” she said, her expression teasing.  “Did you just admit to having human limitations?” 

Dr. Wells’ lips twitched.  “I decline to comment further,” he said, and Barry’s jaw hit the floor as he watched his mentor wheel away. 

Cisco whistled lowly.  “It’s good to have you onboard, Clarissa.  I haven’t seen Doctor Wells pull an all-nighter since right before the particle accelerator got turned on.  I’d almost forgotten how intense he can get.  Do you think you could convince him to put down the coffee and go get some sleep?” he said hopefully. 

Clarissa laughed and shook her head.  “That man is indomitable when he’s in pursuit of a goal,” she said.  “I was always relieved that he and Martin were never coworkers – I think their combined pigheaded stubbornness would have eventually killed them both.”

Clarissa drifted away, presumably to find Caitlin and ask her for any news on Firestorm’s condition, leaving Barry and Cisco standing in the entrance of the Cortex. 

Barry glanced down at his mug, and grimaced.  It _would_ be nice to have coffee, but he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to attempt drinking this stuff black.  And doctoring his coffee might give him the excuse he needed to get himself and Cisco away from potential prying ears for a while.  “I’m gonna go find the cream and sugar in the breakroom,” he said, looking up at Cisco.  “Would you mind coming with me?  I actually have something I want to talk to you about,” he said, lowering his voice and hoping Cisco would get the message that he was trying to be secretive. 

Cisco’s eyes widened.  “Yeah, of course,” he said.  “Can’t leave a man with unsalvageable coffee.  Let me show you where we keep the stuff.” 

To Barry’s relief, Cisco waited until they were down the hall and safely sequestered in the breakroom before he opened his mouth.  “Alright, what’s going on?  You looked pretty nervous back in the Cortex,” he said. 

Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to freak you out – I just didn’t want Doctor Wells to overhear, since we kept the whole thing secret from him in the first place and it would probably piss him off.  I’ve been thinking about tying up some loose ends and I wanted to talk to you.  Do you remember the little emergency locator button you made for Bette?” 

Cisco nodded.  “Yeah, of course.  What about it?” 

“First off, is there any chance that you could delete the tracking software from the mainframe?” Barry said.  “I don’t think the Reverse-Flash would have found it and used it to go after her, but I feel really bad about leaving her potentially exposed to something, especially since Firestorm seems certain that they’re in some sort of shady danger from someone.”  The tracking software was kind of a moot point, since Barry had already destroyed the button it was linked to, but telling Cisco that would also mean revealing he’d been in contact with Bette sans Souci and had been keeping it a secret.  He felt a bit guilty about the white lie, but there was a difference between being more open with his friends and needlessly violating someone’s privacy _again_ in the name of full disclosure.

Cisco sucked in a breath.  “Crap.  I didn’t even think about that.  Do you think she’s in any danger?” 

“Not from the Reverse-Flash,” Barry said.  “She left town a long time before he showed up – he probably doesn’t even know she exists.  But she’s wanted by the military, so other people might be looking for her too.” 

“Good point,” Cisco said, grimacing.  “I should be able to wipe the software from our system without anyone noticing.  It’s a small piece of code, and there’s so many other tracking programs in the mainframe that anyone who realized this one was gone would basically have spotted a needle disappearing from a haystack.” 

Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  Deleting the remnants of Bette’s tracking program would protect both Bette and himself from scrutiny, whether it came from the STAR Labs team or from outsiders.  “One last question,” he said, setting his coffee cup down on the counter before forcing himself to meet Cisco’s eyes.  This was the part that made him the most nervous.  “The locator itself – do you think you could make more of them?” 

Cisco blinked.  “I mean, I could.  But why?” he said, looking at Barry in confusion.  “The last round of intrusive tracking didn’t go very well for us.  We’re still trying to cover our tracks from that one, so what would make this different?” 

“We’d be smarter about it this time,” Barry countered.  “The reason we ran into trouble with Bette was the _covert_ tracking software we installed on the button, the one that would let us locate her without her knowing about it if she ever got up to anything we didn’t like.  The button’s original purpose was for her to let us know she needed help.” 

“That’s a good point,” Cisco said, his expression shifting over to the contemplative one he used whenever he was puzzling out the logistics of a new project.  Barry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing himself to contain his excitement.  Cisco’s reaction was promising, but until he actually agreed to do what Barry was asking for, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself too much.  “But that doesn’t solve the problem of the distress signal getting fed into STAR Labs’ computers.  If the person holding the button is in danger and we’re being watched by someone, there’s always a chance that calling us for help could make their situation worse.” 

“That’s why I don’t want the distress signal to get fed into STAR Labs’ computers at all,” Barry said, forcing his voice to remain level and his hands to remain still.  “I want the information to come straight to me.  Ideally it would go to some sort of separate receiver that looked like an iPod or a BlackBerry or some other piece of tech, but even if the alerts had to be fed straight into my phone, that wouldn’t be the end of the world.” 

Cisco bit his lip.  “But that would mean cutting STAR Labs out of the picture completely.  What would you do if you got an alert and didn’t have us for backup?” 

“I’d figure out the best way to handle it, and I’d do it.  If that meant coming to you guys, that’s absolutely what I would do,” Barry said firmly.  “You’re my team and I know you’re all trying to keep me safe, but to be honest?  This isn’t just about Flash stuff, not really,” he said, taking a deep breath.  “This is about me.  I’ve got so many people who I want to keep safe, and I feel like I’m being pulled in all these different directions.  There’s Iris, and you guys, and this thing with Martin, and Len’s leaving town for an entire week, and – it would just make me feel better, if I knew people could reach me in an emergency, no matter where I am.” 

He held his breath, waiting for Cisco’s response.  Truth be told, he knew what he was asking for was a bit creepy.  But if he offered the S.O.S. buttons to people and told them how they worked, whether or not they accepted was ultimately up to them.  He wouldn’t be doing anything that they weren’t okay with. 

A part of Barry hated that he’d given into his paranoia, in some respects.  He was worried enough about his loved ones’ safety that he was trying to set up a _warning system_ – but at the same time, things in Central had gotten dangerous enough that he wasn’t really being that paranoid. 

His loved ones stood a very real possibility of being in danger because of their association with him.  The least he could do was give them some measure of extra protection in return. 

“Okay,” said Cisco quietly, jerking Barry out of his thoughts.  “It’ll take me some time to make enough of them, but I’ll do it.  How many of them do you want?” 

“As many as you have the parts for,” Barry said, thinking of his ever-widening circle of acquaintances.  Even if he managed to cover everyone he knew, the odds were good that he’d eventually make at least a few new friends who he’d need to protect.  “If you could make me at least one today so that I can give it to Len before he leaves town, that would be fantastic.  And I know it’s been awkward keeping the last button a secret from Doctor Wells, but he’d have one of these this time, so there’d be no reason to hide anything.” 

Cisco made a face.  “Tell me about it.  Keeping things from Doctor Wells is scary.  Do you remember those experimental power cells I mentioned?  The ones that I thought might stand a chance at helping us with Firestorm?” 

Barry nodded.  “Yeah, you told Doctor Wells about them.  Why?”

“They’re something new I’ve been working on ever since you told me that the Reverse-Flash had managed to hack STAR Labs,” Cisco admitted, grimacing.  “But I’ve been keeping them a secret from everyone, especially Doctor Wells.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  The last thing he’d been expecting to hear was that Cisco had been keeping his own secrets this entire time.  “Why have you been hiding them?” 

“Because they’re not exactly general-purpose power cells,” Cisco said, biting his lip.  “I first got the idea when you were whammied by Bivolo and Detective Snart had to help take you down.  The cold slows speedsters down, right?  It’s like their Achilles heel.” 

Barry nodded.  “Yeah.  And then Len proved it works when he used his cold powers against the Reverse-Flash.” 

“That was what sold me on the idea,” Cisco said.  “I wasn’t going to do anything until the Reverse-Flash showed up out of nowhere, because what are the odds that you’re going to get whammied again and go completely off the rails?  Probably slim – although I really shouldn’t have said that out loud,” Cisco amended, knocking his knuckle against the wooden door of the counter behind him.  “But fighting an evil speedster is a lot less hypothetical, and Snart might not be there the next time we have to square up.” 

“I’m not sure I’m following you,” Barry admitted.  “So you’re working on power cells that will do – what, exactly?” 

“They’re not just power cells – they’re _cryopower_ cells,” Cisco said, and Barry’s eyes widened.  “I’ve been trying to build an anti-speedster weapon – a gun that can freeze things just like Snart’s powers can.  I’ve been keeping it secret from Doctor Wells because he absolutely hates weapons.  If he knew I’d made something like this… he’d probably be pretty pissed.” 

There was a part of Barry that shared the sentiment – a cold gun like the one Cisco described could just as easily be used against _him,_ if it fell into the wrong hands.  But against the Reverse-Flash, it could be exactly the kind of thing that allowed them to come out ahead.  They’d essentially have two Captain Colds instead of one.  “Do you think he’d make an exception for something like this?” Barry asked.  “You’re doing it to help the team, and the Reverse-Flash almost killed him.” 

“I’m not sure,” Cisco sighed.  “I’ll probably bring it up if the Reverse-Flash shows up again, but until then I’d honestly prefer not to talk about it.  I haven’t managed to get the gun working, so there’s no danger of it falling into the wrong hands.  And you know how Doctor Wells gets when he’s disappointed,” he said with a grimace. 

Barry winced.  Yep, he was definitely well acquainted with Dr. Wells’ disappointed expression.  “It’s the eyes,” he said.  “They just-”

“Look right through you,” Cisco finished with a sympathetic shudder.  “I love the man, but he’s scary when he’s angry.” 

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Barry reassured him.  “I wish I could say I was willing to volunteer as a test subject once you manage to get this gun running, but I think the others would notice if I came back from Ferris Air covered in frostbite.” 

Cisco immediately shook his head, looking horrified.  “Yeah, no way am I going to shoot a gun like this at anyone except the Reverse-Flash.  It would hurt you pretty badly, but you heal fast enough that you’d recover from the damage.  It would probably kill a normal human if it gets as cold as I think I could make it.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Holy shit.  This gun is going to be able to _kill people?_ How cold are you trying to make this ice?” 

“Absolute zero would be ideal,” Cisco admitted.  “But I admit that’s probably unlikely.  How cold the gun gets depends on whether or not I’m able to make the cryo cells work the way I want them to,” he continued.    “Right now there’s a lot of bleed from the circuits – their energy consumption is too inefficient.  The gun would have tons of electronics in it to control the temperature and the ice output, so the whole thing is designed to be rechargeable, but between the problems with battery stability at low temperatures and the issues I’m having with the cryo cells themselves, I’m not sure what its lower limit would be yet.  Do you know how cold Snart’s ice can get?” 

“I’m not sure,” Barry said, shaking his head.  “I know he got his powers in an accident with liquid nitrogen, and that stuff is cold.  It’s got a boiling point of colder than negative three hundred degrees Celsius, at standard temperature and pressure.  But his ice might not be that potent.  I can probably ask him if you think it would help.” 

“It would definitely be good to know,” Cisco said.  “If I can’t get the cold gun down to the same temperature as Len’s ice, there’s no way for us to know whether or not it will have any effect on the Reverse-Flash.” 

“That’s a good point,” Barry said, biting his lip.  It would really suck if Cisco went through all the time and effort to build a cold gun, risking Dr. Wells’ wrath and everything, only for it to not work against the speedster they needed to use it against.

There was also a very real chance that if they tried to use Cisco’s gun against the Reverse-Flash and it didn’t work, lots of people would die. 

“We should probably go back before the others notice we’re gone,” Cisco continued apologetically, shaking Barry from his grim thoughts.  “We’ve been doctoring your coffee for a really long time.  But it was nice getting to nerd out over this gun with you.  I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it, and bouncing things around actually gave me a few ideas that I want to try.  I’m just glad you aren’t mad at me for building the thing in the first place.” 

“I’m not _thrilled_ about it,” Barry admitted.  “The thought of an anti-speedster weapon falling into the wrong hands is scary as shit.  But as long as we keep it locked up tight and you build in a bunch of anti-theft precautions to the gun itself, it would be nice to have around as a backup.  And if there’s anyone I trust to build a gun that could probably kill me, it’s you.” 

Cisco nodded slowly.  “I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to make that simultaneously morbid and heartwarming.  I’m impressed.” 

Barry’s lips twitched.  “What can I say?  It’s a gift.” 

When they re-entered the Cortex, Barry was relieved that their prolonged absence didn’t seem to have attracted much attention.  Dr. Wells, the person Barry was most worried about, was talking very quietly to Clarissa and Caitlin, and barely glanced at them when they came in.  Barry wondered about the sudden flurry of activity, but a glance at Firestorm’s monitors quickly showed him why the rest of his team was so agitated. 

Firestorm’s vitals were showing clear signs of activity.  Barry and Cisco glanced at each other, eyes wide, before hurrying to join their friends. 

Barry’s mind was racing.  What condition would Firestorm be in when they awoke?  Would it upset them if too many people crowded around their bedside?  Would they even remember how they got there in the first place? 

“He’s been like this for a few minutes,” Caitlin said quietly, turning to look at Barry and Cisco out of the corner of her eye.  “Clarissa was going to come get you, but I was worried about what might happen if Professor Stein woke up and didn’t see a familiar face.” 

Firestorm stirred and murmured at the sound of her voice, and Caitlin fell silent, staring at the man on the table in obvious concern.  Barry wished there was something he could do, other than simply be there for her.  She was looking into the face of her fiancé, knowing full well that when he awoke, his body would probably be under the complete control of someone else. 

The best he could do for her was to be present, and to help make sure that nothing went wrong when they were dealing with Firestorm. 

One of Firestorm’s eyes cracked open briefly before closing again.  “Quite an uncomfortable mattress you have here, Doctor Wells,” they said, voice gravelly from sleep but otherwise perfectly intelligible.  “Am I still at STAR Labs or did you deem it more prudent to tuck me in on a concrete slab somewhere?” 

Barry let out a choked sound.  He’d recognize that dry sarcasm anywhere – it was definitely Martin doing the talking.  And judging by what he’d said, he still remembered everything that had happened the night before.  “My apologies, Professor Stein,” said Dr. Wells smoothly.  “You’re at STAR Labs, in our medical bay.  Aside from any lingering stiffness, are you comfortable?” 

“All things considered, I’ll take the stiffness,” said Martin, flexing his fingers on top of the sheet as if to make sure everything was in working order.  “My head feels clearer than it has in months.  What did you give me?” 

“I used a combination of anti-psychotics, depressants, and mood stabilizers to stabilize you and ease the effects of your – condition,” Caitlin said.  Martin’s head turned sharply in the direction of her voice, although his eyes remained closed.  “I wasn’t sure how effective it would be.  Can you tell me anything about how Ronnie is doing?” she said.  Barry heard the note of suppressed anxiety in her voice and found his heart rate kicking up in anticipation of Martin’s answer. 

Martin nodded slowly.  “The other one – _Ronnie_ – is fine,” he said, and Caitlin’s shoulders sagged in relief.  “He’s buried deep, but he’s not in distress.  If anything, his mental state resembles that of one who has found themselves the surprise recipient of a much-needed nap.”  He used one arm to lever himself into a sitting position, and Cisco silently darted forward to elevate the back half of the gurney so that he could remain upright.  “Now, if you don’t mind, where is my family?  My memories from last night are a bit hazy, but I seem to recall seeing my foster son dressed in some sort of… red leather fetish gear.” 

Cisco let out a strangled choking noise, and Barry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.  “First of all, it’s not leather,” he said, stepping towards Martin’s bedside.  “It’s industrial-strength, friction-resistant tripolymer, and it’s definitely not fetish gear either.” 

Martin’s eyes opened at the sound of his approach, and Barry found himself staring into hazel eyes that were familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.  Seeing Martin’s fond expression directed at him while wearing someone else’s face would probably never stop being strange to Barry, but he wasn’t about to split hairs when he was seeing his foster father’s smile for the first time in a year.  “Barry.  It’s good to hear your voice.  I would say that I hoped the feeling was mutual, but I don’t sound much like myself these days.” 

“We can still hear you in there,” Clarissa said, moving to stand beside Barry.  “I can assure you, there’s no need to worry on that count.” 

Martin’s shoulders hunched slightly.  “Clarissa, my dear,” he said, turning to her with a small, chagrined smile.  “I wish we were having our reunion under different circumstances.  I don’t think I’ve shaved in over a month,” he admitted, rubbing the side of his face self-consciously.

Clarissa snorted.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Martin.  We can have a do-over once you have your body back, but if you think I’m leaving this room without my family group hug, you’ve got another think coming.”

“She’s right, Martin,” said Barry with a grin, stepping forward and holding out his arms.  He’d almost forgotten how easy it was to fluster his foster father with public displays of affection.  He was aware that it was ironic, considering his own tendency toward eschewing physical contact with people he wasn’t close to, but he’d never had a problem with teasing or cajoling Martin into a hug.  Aside from the fact that he enjoyed it, there was something amusing about being the less awkward person in a hug, for a change.

Martin looked back and forth between Clarissa and Barry before letting out a sigh.  “Oh, very well,” he grumbled.  “Let’s get this over with.”

Martin gamely tried to stand up so that he could hug them on an equal playing field, but Clarissa and Barry intercepted him before he could manage to rise to his feet.  The resulting hug was awkward and smushed; Barry was forced to wrap his arms around both of his foster parents to avoid jostling the gurney, and he could definitely tell that Martin hadn’t gotten the opportunity to shower in a while, but he wasn’t about to complain.  Barring a few loose ends, mainly the fact that Martin was still trapped in someone else’s body, there wasn’t a thing he’d change about this moment.

Things were a long way from perfect, but Martin was safe, and that was what Barry had wanted most.

* * *

Once he was able to support his own weight and had managed to satisfactorily reassure Dr. Wells that he wasn’t about to burst into flames in the middle of STAR Labs, Martin excused himself from the Cortex in order to freshen up.  “Normally I’d say that nothing in the world could keep me from immediately resuming my research, but that was before I spent several months living under a bridge,” he’d said wryly.  “I think I’ll have to postpone my hunt for a cure until after I’ve managed to procure a razor, some soap, and a clean change of clothes.”

“We’ve actually got some showers here, if you want to use them,” Cisco had said.  “I can show you where they are.”

“No need, Cisco,” Martin had immediately replied.  His expression had turned momentarily uncomfortable.  “I’ve found myself feeling right at home in STAR Labs.  It’s undoubtedly Ronald’s influence.  They’re on the third floor, yes?”

“Yeah,” Cisco had replied, his voice quieter this time.  “They’re, uh.  Near the gym.”

Once Martin had gone, the lingering silence had taken on a distinctly more uncomfortable quality.  Barry was still uncertain about how to proceed, especially with Martin off freshening up.  None of the difficult conversations they needed to have, like the brainstorming about how to separate Martin from Ronnie or the matter of securing Firestorm in the Pipeline in case of emergencies, could happen without Martin here to participate.

Clarissa looked a bit shaken by the aftermath of Martin’s departure, but she was still doing fairly well, all things considered.  After a little bit of fretting over Barry, she’d gone off to talk to Dr. Wells again, hopefully to start figuring out some of the logistics of their situation before Martin got back.

Barry was more worried about Caitlin than he was about his foster mother; she hadn’t spoken a word since Martin had left the room to shower and change.  He wanted to say something to her, but was afraid that any comfort he had to offer would only make her feel worse.  He and Clarissa had gotten to have their reunion with their missing loved one, but Martin had barely even acknowledged Caitlin, other than to ask about the medical treatment he’d received.

Reluctantly, he edged closer to her, taking a deep breath and forcing his tongue to unstick itself from the roof of his mouth.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

Caitlin sent him a sad smile.  “You’re worried about me, aren’t you?”

Barry sighed; he supposed his approach had been fairly transparent.  “A little,” he admitted.  “I know Martin’s response probably wasn’t what you wanted – he can be a bit dense when it comes to interpersonal stuff.”

Caitlin nodded.  “I know it’s not his fault, and I promise I’m not mad at him or you, if that’s what you were worried about.”  Barry didn’t say anything, but felt faintly ashamed of himself.  “I’ll admit it is a lot to take in, though.  Until he starts talking, it’s easy to forget that I’m not looking at Ronnie, not really.”

Cisco sighed.  “I don’t know.  On the one hand, I can tell Ronnie’s in there somewhere – Firestorm knows his way around STAR Labs, and he knew my nickname even though I never introduced myself.  And Stein did say that Ronnie was fine in there.  I don’t think he’d lie about that.”

“He wouldn’t,” Barry said firmly.  Martin was socially awkward and could come off as insensitive at times, but he wasn’t dishonest by any stretch of the imagination.  “But if he is able to access Ronnie’s knowledge and memories somehow, he’s probably feeling really weird about being here.  You guys are strangers to him, but Ronnie loves both of you.”

Cisco made a face.  “Yeah, I can see how that would get weird.  Especially Caitlin – I mean, they’re _engaged._ ”

“Okay, let’s – not,” Barry said, hastily turning his mind away from that particular line of thought, because – no.  “I admit I wasn’t really sure where I was going with this, other than to say that I think between Dr. Wells and Martin, we’ll be able to figure out how to fix the situation.  But I’m glad you’re doing okay, Caitlin.”

Caitlin nodded.  “I’m doing my best.  I think the longer this goes on, the more I’ll be able to adjust to things.”  Abruptly, her expression froze, and the blood drained from her face as she looked at something over Barry’s shoulder.

Whatever it was, Cisco looked equally shaken.  “Oh hell,” his friend muttered, wringing his hands together.

Barry swiveled around, and couldn’t suppress a gasp at the sight of the man standing in the doorway.

When he’d been unkempt and wearing dirty clothes, it had been much easier for Barry to ignore that Firestorm, better known as Ronnie Raymond, was both young and extremely attractive.  He was being reminded of it now.  Martin hadn’t just found time to shower and shave, he’d also cut his hair and changed into a pair of clothes that fit him surprisingly well, considering he’d apparently just found them laying around somewhere.  Maybe Ronnie had left some things here at STAR Labs when he’d still been employed here.  If Martin had been able to access Ronnie’s memories well enough to navigate STAR Labs’ hallways, Barry supposed that finding a spare change of clothes wasn’t too much of a stretch.

The main issue was that instead of looking like a homeless person, Martin now looked exactly like the man in the photos from the STAR Labs Christmas party.  And judging by their reactions, Caitlin and Cisco weren’t taking it all that well.

“I don’t suppose it’s necessary for me to point out that you’re all staring?” Martin said, arching an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Caitlin and Cisco said in unison.  They looked away.

Barry cringed and opened his mouth to say something, but Clarissa beat him to the punch.  “Martin,” she said firmly.  “I know this is a difficult situation for you, but Barry and I aren’t the only ones eager to be reunited with our missing loved one.  Try to be a bit more understanding.”

Martin glanced briefly at the floor.  “My apologies,” he muttered.  “I know this is an unprecedented and unpleasant scenario for all of us.”  

Dr. Wells wheeled forward, neatly dispelling the building tension in the atmosphere before it could rise to critical levels.  “Professor Stein,” he said.  “You’re looking… rejuvenated.” 

“Hardly an improvement over my previous condition,” Martin retorted.  “As it is, my presence is going to do nothing but cause your team distress.  I’d like to return both Ronald and myself to our original bodies as quickly as possible.” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “And we’ll do everything we possibly can to help you.  I’ve done some preliminary research into ways that your accident could be reversed, but I was hoping to bring your expertise to the table before deciding on anything final.  After all, splitting an atom is very different from splitting a man.” 

Martin nodded slowly.  “Indeed it is.  I don’t suppose you have immediate access to a portable fusion device of your own?” 

Cisco shook his head.  “Not really in our budget.” 

“Most of our funding these days goes toward research and development in new technologies to alleviate the metahuman problem,” Dr. Wells said wryly.  “And towards helping our resident superhero fight crime.” 

When Martin turned inquiring eyes on Barry, he flushed the same shade of red as his suit.  “Doctor Wells!” he complained.  “You can’t joke about me being a superhero in front of my foster parents!  I’m not a superhero – I’m like a vigilante, at _best._ ” 

“I think I’m going to need a bit more of an explanation as to how my foster son developed superpowers, was adopted as the mascot of a defunct research facility, and became a vigilante,” Martin said to Dr. Wells while Barry continued to ineffectually stammer protests.  “And perhaps in the meantime someone can fill me in on any technological innovations that I may have missed in the past year or so, particularly in the energy sector.”

“I can do that,” Cisco offered immediately, taking a step forward.  “I design most of the tech that Barry uses, so I’d be happy to explain how it works.  We don’t have a ton of energy-related projects, though,” he said, glancing briefly at Barry. 

Barry thought back to the experimental power cells sitting in basement storage somewhere, just waiting to be slotted into a cold gun, and nodded along with Cisco before Dr. Wells could notice the engineer’s odd behavior.  Fortunately, their mentor seemed more interested in talking to Martin than observing any behind-the-scenes conversations that might be going on around him.  “Our array of patents notwithstanding, STAR Labs has always been geared more toward theoretical applications,” he said, sounding almost apologetic.  “This past year has made me regret not becoming more involved in your line of work.  If we’d collaborated on more projects, I might have ended up meeting Barry sooner,” he said, glancing briefly in Barry’s direction. 

Barry blushed at the attention, and couldn’t help but feel grateful that he _hadn’t_ met Dr. Wells when he was still in high school.  He’d been awkward enough talking to one of his idols in science when he’d woken up in STAR Labs after his coma, and he’d been an adult.  If Martin had ever introduced him to Dr. Wells when he was younger, he probably would have ended up wringing the man’s hand and begging him for an internship. 

“Doctor Wells is right – and Mercury Labs is really at the forefront of development in the energy sector these days,” Cisco added.  “Do you think Dr. McGee would let us take a look at her tachyon prototype again?  It’s still in early stages, but it’s probably the most advanced of the current energy research projects I’ve seen.” 

Martin looked intrigued.  “Superluminal particles?  You might be onto something, Cisco.  If they were adequately refined and concentrated, they might be able to generate enough energy output to take the place of the fusion device that got Ronald and myself into this mess in the first place.” 

Barry listened to the conversation with wide eyes, feeling as if he’d suddenly been dumped into a bucket of ice water.  “Shit,” he breathed. 

“Language,” said Martin reflexively. 

“Sorry – but guys, we have a really big problem,” Barry said, swallowing.  “We can’t go to Mercury Labs to look at the tachyon prototype because Mercury Labs doesn’t _have_ the tachyon prototype.  It was stolen the day after we failed to trap the Reverse-Flash.” 

He looked around anxiously at the faces of his friends and family as they processed the news.  Caitlin and Cisco both looked shocked and dismayed.  Clarissa looked alarmed.  Martin looked like he had a million questions – understandable, since he hadn’t been present for the clusterfuck of an encounter and had no idea who the Reverse-Flash was – but Dr. Wells’ face was the one that worried him most.  Barry had expected his mentor to have some sort of strong reaction.  He’d get angry like he had when Barry had gone after Bivolo on his own, or chilly like he had the night that Barry had first told him about meeting Firestorm under the bridge. 

Instead, Dr. Wells almost looked _resigned._

“I was afraid something like this might happen,” he said with a sigh.  “The Reverse-Flash is persistent.  If the tachyon prototype was essential to attaining his goals, it’s within the realm of possibility that he could have found another way of obtaining the device.”  He looked at Barry over the rims of his glasses.  “How long have you known the tachyon prototype was missing?” 

Barry bit his lip.  “Almost the entire time.  I wasn’t supposed to know about it – I’m not on the police investigation.  Everything’s been kept quiet.  But I was in the right place at the right time, and I ended up getting told some things that I shouldn’t have.  It’s what made me realize that the entire setup at STAR Labs was a ruse in the first place.” 

Dr. Wells nodded slowly.  “I see.  Well, Mister Allen, I don’t think your secret-keeping did any real damage this time.  Aside from perhaps assisting in the police investigation, I can’t say with any degree of certainty that we would have acted differently, had we been aware of the theft.  In any case, we need to remain calm.” 

“Remain calm?” Cisco said with a strangled-sounding laugh.  “Didn’t you say the tachyon prototype would basically make the Reverse-Flash _invincible_ if he got his hands on it?” 

“We don’t know for certain that the Reverse-Flash is the one who stole the tachyon prototype,” Dr. Wells pointed out.  “He’s the most likely candidate, but there could be additional parties involved.  Barry, I need you to tell me _exactly_ what you were told about the police investigation.” 

“And while we’re at it, I would very much like to be filled in on exactly who has stolen a technologically advanced prototype from one of the leading labs in our country,” said Martin.  “Who is the Reverse-Flash?” 

“I really don’t know very much,” Barry said.  “They haven’t been talking about it at the CCPD, so either it’s a really small investigation, or Mercury Labs is trying to keep things quiet.  I can try to find out more, but if I start poking my nose into things, people are going to wonder how I know about the investigation in the first place.”  If anything, asking about the tachyon prototype at work would be _riskier_ than his usual poking and prying.  Nobody had told Barry Allen anything about the investigation, if there even was one – the only person who’d said anything to him about the tachyon prototype going missing was Len, and he’d told that to the Flash.

If he started asking about the tachyon prototype around the station and word got back to Len, his cover would be as good as blown.

Dr. Wells stared at him for a second longer, and Barry forced himself to meet his mentor’s gaze without fidgeting until the man eventually nodded.  “Very well.  If you end up hearing more about the investigation, do what you can to pass the information along to us.  However, if you’re forced to make a choice between sharing information and protecting your identity, it is more important for you to stay safe than it is for us to interfere in a police investigation."

Barry nodded, finding himself oddly torn between relief and confusion.  It was good that Dr. Wells wasn’t trying to push him into meddling the way he had when they’d coordinated with the CCPD to trap the Reverse-Flash in the first place, but it was still a bit weird.  He’d never thought of Dr. Wells as someone who had any particular respect for boundaries, especially when there was crossover with STAR Labs or Flash business.  They’d meddled in plenty of police investigations before this one, so why was his mentor suddenly content to keep his nose out of the CCPD’s business?

“I’m glad to hear that everyone is interested in the stability of my foster son’s career in law enforcement, but I have questions,” Martin said.  Behind him, Barry saw Clarissa look toward the ceiling with a faintly despairing expression on her face.  “Who _is_ the Reverse-Flash?  And what does he want with a sophisticated piece of energy technology?”

Barry waited to see whether Dr. Wells would take point on the explanation, but when his mentor remained silent, he cleared his throat.  “The Reverse-Flash is a speedster like I am,” he said, watching his foster parents’ faces closely.  “We don’t know much about him, other than that he’s a master planner and he probably isn’t working alone.  He first tried to steal the tachyon prototype from Mercury Labs a few weeks ago, and we thought we’d managed to trap him here at STAR Labs by using the prototype as bait.  The whole thing turned out to be a ruse.  We haven’t seen him since that night, but he’s out there, and he’s dangerous,” he said firmly.  “If he does have the tachyon prototype, he’ll be even more dangerous now than he was before.”   

Clarissa’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, and Martin was nodding along slowly.  Barry mentally steeled himself for the last part, the part that he suspected would trouble them most.  “He’s also the man in the yellow suit.”

It was like someone had thrown a switch behind Martin’s eyes.  The reserved interest vanished, and was immediately replaced by anger.  “Doctor Wells,” he said, his voice flinty.  “While I understand your very reasonable concerns about my current condition, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on your immediate assistance with finding a cure for Ronald and myself.  If that yellow-suited bastard has come crawling out of the gutter now, after all these years, I need to help ensure that he pays for what he’s done.”

Dr. Wells nodded.  “That was more or less the response I was expecting,” he said.  “I’ll certainly do everything I can to help.”

He extended a hand to Martin, and Martin took it.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin's back! He and Ronnie aren't back to 100%, but they're on their way! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the update! I'm working on the next few chapters as fast as I can; looking at my outline, there's some stuff coming soon that I'm really excited to share. I'm hoping to put out at least one more update before the end of the year!


	30. Avalanche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone! I'm happy to report that I did manage to get another chapter done before the end of the year. I'll have less time to write for a little while; the holidays are getting busy at my house, and I'm also busy building up my stock of art for the conventions I'll be tabling at with a friend of mine. They're small cons, but I still need merch to sell! I'm estimating that I'll be posting the next chapter sometime around mid-January, although if I can get it out sooner than that I will. 
> 
> I'll be responding to comments later today, but thank you so much to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter! Introducing Martin was something that I was nervous about, so the feedback about him was very helpful to me.

While Len had originally intended to drag his feet about preparing for his trip, over the past twenty-four hours he’d gradually allowed himself to get swept up in the cheerful atmosphere.  Resisting the combined enthusiasm of Mick and Lisa would be both ungrateful and futile, so Len had given in and accepted his fate. 

Getting coffee with Barry the previous day had been unexpectedly helpful in preparing Len for his departure.  Spending time with the CSI outside of the office had been refreshing, but it had also provided Len with some perspective on his poor emotional control lately.  Some frigid mountain air would be just the thing he needed to shock some sense back into him and keep him from behaving like a moonstruck idiot when he returned. 

Of course, when he walked into the precinct that afternoon and was immediately greeted by the sight of Barry Allen making a beeline towards him, it was still a cheering sight.  “Hey, Len!” Barry called to him.  On closer inspection, Len noticed that he was carrying two to-go cups from Jitters.  “I was running early for a change, so I ended up swinging by Jitters on the way to work.  I figured the seasonal menu would be gone by the time you got back, so I got you another of those peppermint mocha thingies.  I was just going to leave it on your desk, but you’re here now so – here it is,” Barry said, thrusting one of the cups towards Len with a smile that, Len noticed, was slightly more flustered than his usual.    

“Thanks,” said Len, reaching out to take the cup from Barry’s hand.  He allowed one of his gloved fingers to brush against Barry’s and felt a pleased curl of warmth in his stomach at the way Barry’s eyes widened slightly in response.  Now wasn’t that interesting.    

“No problem,” Barry replied, glancing briefly at the cup Len was holding before looking back at his face.  “It’s, um – still hot, so be careful.” 

Len took a cautious sip, and his eyebrows rose when the warm drink burned the edge of his lip.  “No kidding,” he said.  “How’d you manage to get warm drinks back to the station in this weather?  Jitters is twelve minutes away from here.” 

Barry took a sip of his own drink and winced.  “Wow, it really is still hot – I took the bus!” he said.  “I got lucky and the timing worked out – it was coming by Jitters right as I was leaving.” 

Len nodded.  “That is good luck.”  He generally preferred using his bike to get around the city, but Central did have reasonably reliable public transportation.  He briefly wondered if Barry owned a car, then decided it would be rude to ask.  “I’ve got some paperwork to do before I leave town, but thanks for the drink,” he said, changing the subject.  “Do you want to get lunch later?” 

Barry’s face fell.  “I wish I could, but I already promised someone else I’d meet him for lunch.  He’s been out of town for a while and we have some catching up to do.  Can I get a raincheck for when you get back?”

“Of course,” Len said with a nod, relieved when Barry’s expression immediately perked up.  He was a bit disappointed not to be able to enjoy Barry’s company one last time before he left town, but it was probably a good thing that the CSI had other plans.  Considering Len’s desire to keep himself from rushing headlong into something, he was unexpectedly prone to making snap decisions that led him to spend extra time with Barry.  It wasn’t the best strategy for keeping his emotions under control. 

Len said goodbye to Barry and made his way over to his desk, feeling buoyed by the coffee in his hand as well as his own uncharacteristic impulsiveness.  He was out of his depth, but there was something refreshing about allowing himself to behave like a sentimental old fool.  Mick would be proud of him for being bold, at least.  Len would have to content himself with the promise of catching up with Barry over lunch when he returned – and with the memory of how Barry had reacted to him when their hands had touched. 

It was dangerous to allow himself to hope too much, especially when there were this many unknown variables in play, but Len indulged in the memory for a second longer.  He didn’t think he had imagined the way Barry had looked at him, even if it had only been a brief reaction.  Barry had looked startled, yes, but there had been something anticipatory in his expression too.  

If Len really had seen what he’d thought he’d seen, it boded well for him down the line. 

Unable to entirely banish the small, pleased smile from his lips, Len retreated to the relative privacy of his desk so he could do his paperwork in peace, away from curious eyes.  He’d worked hard to cultivate a suitably aloof disposition among the other detectives; the last thing he needed was to bungle his work by broadcasting his good mood like a lighthouse. 

The collection of papers he’d accumulated in his intray was small, and as Len gave it a once-over he saw that it was mostly routine documentation.  The low crime level over the holiday season had given Len an overabundance of time to catch up on his reports, but there were still a few new cases that had come in over the past couple of days.  One particular set of warehouse thefts had led to some odd evidence paperwork, but there had been enough stolen chemicals among the recovered goods that most of the preliminary work had been delegated to Barry and Lisa.  Len could see their familiar handwriting on some of the paperwork; Lisa’s neat print was an amusing contrast to Barry’s barely-legible chickenscratch. 

As Len shuffled through several equipment request forms, a piece of cardstock fluttered to the ground.  He bent over to pick it up, expecting to see some sort of stationwide Christmas card or departmental memo, but when he saw the front of the card, his eyebrows rose.  The card was plain white except for a single typed line of black text. 

_If you can, meet me on the Jitters rooftop at 9 PM tonight._

There was no signature, but if the jagged lightning bolt drawn at the end of the sentence was any indication, Len had a pretty good idea of who’d left it. 

He frowned at the card, wondering when exactly the Flash had ventured into the precinct to slip it into his stack of paperwork.  It had to have been sometime between his departure last night and his arrival this morning, since Len had made it a point to make sure he cleared out his intray by the end of his shift. 

While he wasn’t pleased at the idea of the speedster breaking into the precinct after hours to slip him a cryptic note, Len was a bit more worried about what might have prompted the Flash to do something so uncharacteristically rash.  The speedster hadn’t requested a meeting since he’d helped rescue Iris from Tony Woodward, and he’d never slipped Len a cryptic note like this.  He had Len’s _phone number,_ for crying out loud. 

Of course, there was always the possibility that the Flash had decided that communicating by phone wasn’t safe this time.  And if Scarlet was requesting to meet him at a specific time and place, it was possible that he had important information to pass along. 

Mentally, Len ran through his schedule for the rest of today.  He got off work at seven this evening, and he and Mick had been planning to leave late at night to avoid getting caught in the rush of travelers leaving Central City for the weekend.  If he ate a quick dinner and didn’t spend too long at his apartment, it would be feasible for him and Mick to take a detour by Jitters on their way out of town. 

His mind made up, Len folded the piece of paper and slid it into his pocket before pulling out his phone.   _Flash wants to meet me on our way out of town, at 9,_ he sent to Mick.  With that settled, he could get to work.

Len spent the next hour and a half making his way through paperwork and slowly sipping his espresso-spiked hot chocolate.  By the time he got to the bottom of the cup it was stone-cold, but he didn’t particularly mind.  He didn’t want to rush his way through enjoying a gift.

When someone did finally interrupt his focus, it wasn’t one of Len’s usual candidates.  “Hey, Snart,” said Eddie’s voice behind him.  “Are you planning on going out for lunch today?”

“I might be,” Len replied, setting his pen down on the desk before turning to face Eddie.  “Is West busy today?”

“He’s meeting Iris over by Picture News for lunch,” Eddie said, and Len nodded.  It made sense that West would want to take his daughter out to eat, considering she’d just started a new job recently.  It was an occasion that called for celebration.  “Barry said he already had plans, but I wanted to check and see if you were busy.”

Len nodded.  A change in his routine would help the time pass faster, and it was nice to feel included.  “I haven’t talked to Lisa yet today, but there’s no reason all three of us can’t go if she decides she wants to go out.”

“Sounds good!” Eddie said, beaming.  “The more the merrier.  Do you want to go now?  It’s a bit early, but I’ve been here since six, so I’m pretty hungry,” he said, shrugging one shoulder sheepishly.

Len tilted his head, considering.  He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he was at a good stopping point in his paperwork.  “I don’t mind.  I’ll text Lisa and see if she’s interested.”

He fired off a quick inquiry, then saw that he had a return message from Mick.   _I’ll drag you out of town myself if I have to, but we can meet your speedster if it means you’ll be able to sleep easier at night._

Len’s lips twitched, and he exited out of his messages.  Mick probably thought the Flash had some sort of emergency news for him that would delay their trip, but if there was a real crisis, the speedster wouldn’t have been content to let the problem sit until nine PM tonight.  He’d probably have showed up at the station in broad daylight, if he was getting bold enough to break in here anyway.

Lisa texted him that she was on her way up, and Len nodded to Eddie.  “She’s coming.”  It would have been fun to have Barry along as well, but it was nice to be making plans with different people in his social circle, even if Eddie was someone that Len had only recently begun to consider a friend instead of merely a coworker.  It was a simple but effective way of adding balance to his life.  

As he, Lisa, and Eddie headed toward the entrance, Len’s attention was drawn to a young, dark-haired man who was standing near the door and glancing frequently at the old-fashioned gold watch on his wrist.  Between the way he was tapping his foot, his long black coat, and his faint scowl, he didn’t look like the type of person that Len usually saw hanging around the precinct.  Len continued to watch the stranger out of the corner of his eye until they’d left the building. 

“I wonder who that guy was,” Eddie said, pulling his coat more tightly around himself as they stepped into the wind.  “Do you think he was the guy Barry had plans with?” 

“Could be.  He was definitely waiting for someone,” Len replied. 

Lisa shook her head.  “How on earth does Barry have so many attractive friends?” she grumbled.  “Where do they all come from?” 

“Beats me,” Eddie said, looking amused.  “But did anyone else think he looked kind of familiar?  I feel like I’ve seen his face before.  It was something to do with a case.” 

“Now that you mention it, you might be right,” Lisa said, frowning.  “I actually thought he looked a bit like Oliver Queen, but that could just be me imagining things.” 

Len was prepared for the sullen flutter of jealousy, but he was still disappointed in himself.  “Could be a relative,” he said.  If Barry had befriended a younger member of the Queen family, a cousin perhaps, it might explain how he and Oliver Queen had met in the first place. 

All the same, Len couldn’t help hoping that Barry wouldn’t be bringing his mysterious guest to Daily Bread for their meal.  Given the circumstances, it would be hard to resist the temptation to eavesdrop. 

* * *

When Barry looked out the window of his lab and saw Martin tapping his foot in the lobby of the precinct, he nearly had a stroke. 

“I thought we agreed to meet at the restaurant,” he said once he’d ushered his foster father out of the station as fast as he could without drawing unwanted attention. 

“Doctor Wells and I came to a stopping place in our research earlier than I had anticipated, so I decided to come early,” Martin said, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his long black coat.  Barry recognized it as one from the hall closet at the Stein residence; Clarissa must have brought it for him at some point this morning. 

Regardless of how he’d gotten it, Barry could tell that Martin felt more at ease now that he was wearing his own clothing instead of Ronnie’s, even if the coat was a bit short on his current frame.  Barry found that he shared the sentiment.  It was grounding to see Martin in some of his regular clothes, seeing as how he couldn’t exactly wear his regular face. 

“Still,” Barry said, “the CCPD is probably not the safest place for you to be right now.  Ronnie Raymond was presumed dead, but there’s still a good chance that some of the people at the precinct have seen his picture.” 

Martin tilted his head, conceding the point.  “Fair.  Now, do I remember there being a pizza place somewhere in this part of town?” 

“Uh – yeah, there’s a pizza place a few blocks from here,” Barry said.  “But you don’t have to get pizza just because you’re with me, we can go somewhere else.” 

“It’s not just because you’re here, I can assure you,” said Martin with a grimace.  “It’s Ronald’s influence.  Apparently this body’s tastebuds are quite different from my own.  I’ve been craving pizza for days.” 

Barry opened his mouth, then closed it again.  Considering the unprecedented oddness of this situation, it shouldn’t be Martin’s sudden eagerness to eat pizza that got to them both, yet here they were.  “Well from what I remember, it’s decent,” Barry said, forcing himself past the brief stumbling block before the silence could become awkward.  “Not the best pizza, but it’ll do if you’re having a craving.  My work friends and I usually eat at a sandwich place near here, so once you’re back to normal I definitely want to take you there.” 

Martin’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the way they always did when he was pleased.  Barry couldn’t help but find it reassuring.  Even when his foster dad was trapped in someone else’s body, there were at least a few constants.  “I’d like that,” he said, and when he started to walk away from the station, Barry fell in step alongside him.  “I’d also like to meet your new friends at some point, although I suppose my sudden reappearance will require some explanation.” 

Barry nodded.  “I’m planning to let at least one person in on my identity at some point soon, so if that goes well I won’t need to explain too much about why you’re back.”  He felt his face reddening slightly at the thought of Len, and hoped that Martin would attribute it to the cold.  They had enough to catch up on without Barry telling his foster dad about his interest in Len right this second. 

He hoped he hadn’t been too blatantly obvious, bringing Len a hot chocolate made the way he liked it, especially since he hadn’t only been doing it to flirt.  The seasonal menu probably _would_ be gone by the time Len got back. 

Of course, Len had immediately noticed that the hot chocolate was hotter than it should have been – Barry’d had to lie out of his ass to cover that particular slip.  _Taken the bus._ Since waking up from his coma, he’d never needed to use Central’s public transportation, and his memory of the network from before he’d moved to Starling City was fuzzy.  He was lucky the routes hadn’t changed much, because Len would have immediately called him on it if his impulse answer hadn’t been correct. 

Now that he’d mostly resolved his internal crisis about whether or not to tell Len the truth about his identity, apparently it was time for Barry to start making stupid mistakes.  He’d have to keep an eye on himself.  At least he hadn’t been dumb enough to hand-write the note he’d left on Len’s desk that morning.  Len had read enough of Barry’s reports to recognize his handwriting. 

Martin and Barry mainly stuck to small talk while they were walking to the pizza place – stuff about Barry’s job, Clarissa’s charity work, that sort of thing, since it wasn’t the best idea to talk about STAR Labs on a busy street.  The conversation was a bit stilted, but the hint of awkwardness was comforting, in its own way. 

Once they’d ordered and were sitting at a booth with their pizza slices – two pieces of cheese for Martin, five slices of meat lovers’ for Barry – the conversation took a more serious turn.  “You said that you and Doctor Wells got to a stopping point in your research,” Barry said, wrapping his fingers around the cold metal of the parmesan cheese shaker.  “Does that mean you found something?” 

Martin shook his head.  “We’ve gone back and forth, but we haven’t found anything conclusive.  We decided to stop once we nearly came to blows over a particle physics equation,” he said wryly.  “Don’t get me wrong – he’s a brilliant man, and I’ll be forever indebted to him for saving your life, but he can be quite difficult to work with.” 

Barry’s lips twitched.  Dr. Wells wasn’t the only difficult scientist in Barry’s life.  “The world of physics isn’t large enough for both of you.” 

“You’re teasing, but there’s a reason the two of us rarely collaborate,” Martin said, an answering smile flitting across his face before he leaned closer to Barry.  “I could also feel Ronald growing frustrated with our stalemate,” he said quietly.  “He was baffled that Doctor Wells hadn’t come up with a solution already.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “You can still sense that many of his emotions?  You two aren’t going to, you know – burst into flames again, are you?” he whispered.  “I can run you back to STAR Labs.”

Martin shook his head.  “There’s no need to worry.  I can still detect his thoughts and emotions, but we’re no longer struggling for control.  While the cognitive dissonance can be a bit challenging at times, I’ll admit there are some practical advantages to our fusion, as long as we can agree on our objectives.  Ronald is quite a talented engineer in his own right, and his working memory of the particle accelerator has proven to be an asset.” 

“That’s good,” Barry said.  He sprinkled some parmesan onto his pizza slices.  “I’m glad you two are getting along better, even if you are still stuck like this.” 

“It’s an improvement, if not a perfect solution,” Martin agreed.  He reached out and took the cheese from Barry, sprinkling it onto his own pizza before folding up the slice and taking a bite.  Barry watched in fascination as Martin’s expression warred with itself while he chewed.  “I can’t decide whether I love this pizza or despise it.  Maybe I can persuade Cisco to order some from a more reputable dealer.” 

Barry snorted before starting in on his own slices, giving Martin the opportunity to ramble while he ate.  He did his best to refrain from eating too quickly, but there were several times when he caught Martin eyeing his rapidly disappearing lunch in thinly-disguised interest. 

“I haven’t gotten much opportunity to ask about you, Barry,” he said when Barry paused to take a breath midway through his fourth slice.  “Clearly Ronald and I weren’t the only ones affected by what happened that night.” 

“It’s an interesting time to be living in Central City,” Barry said wryly, wiping the grease off his hands on a napkin.  “You’re right, though – a lot of people were affected by the particle accelerator explosion and got powers of some sort, usually based on what was happening to them when they came into contact with the dark matter.  I was struck by lightning that night,” he said, lowering his voice.  Martin’s fingers tightened on the pizza crust he was holding.  “I ended up in a coma for nine months, but when I woke up I found out I’d gained the ability to run at super-speed.  I heal faster too, which is a good thing because I had a hard time stopping at first.  I broke my wrist the first time my team took me out on a test run.” 

A furrow appeared in Martin’s brow as he nodded slowly.  “I’m glad you’ve had ample support, but are you sure these powers won’t eventually prove detrimental to your health?  From what I’ve learned, most metahuman abilities come with drawbacks.” 

“There are a few tradeoffs,” Barry admitted.  “I’ve got a much faster metabolism than I used to, so I have to eat a lot more – without the energy bars Cisco invented, I wouldn’t be able to afford to feed myself.  And I burn through medication too quickly for painkillers to have any effect.  Caffeine and alcohol don’t work on me either.  Sometimes my resting heart rate is too fast to register on heart monitors, so I basically have to stay out of hospitals at all costs or they’ll figure out my identity within a few hours, but I really don’t have it bad compared to some other metas I’ve met.”  He thought about Bette, who was unable to touch things without the risk of blowing them up, and even Len, to an extent – he’d expressed some frustration with his sensitivity to heat in the past.  Even some of the metas he’d fought against could have had better outcomes with their powers if they’d been provided with help after their accidents.  “I understand my powers, they aren’t dangerous to me or anyone else, and I have STAR Labs to help me.  I really don’t think there’s any other metahuman out there who’s as lucky as I am.”   

Martin let out a long sigh.  “I’m relieved.  You do seem content with your lot, but… are you happy?  You know I worry.”  

“I’m happy,” Barry reassured him.  “Stressed as hell, especially with the Reverse-Flash situation not really getting a resolution, but I’m trying to take things one day at a time.  Having people in my corner makes a big difference, and now that you’re back, that’s one less thing I have to worry about, even if you and Ronnie aren’t quite at one hundred percent yet.” 

“I see.”  Martin set his pizza down on his plate.  “Barry, there’s something I have to tell you.” 

The hairs prickled on the back of Barry’s neck.  “Please tell me it’s less ominous news than that statement made it sound like.” 

“I wish I could.”  For a moment, Martin looked weary enough that he almost appeared his actual age.  “Your team at STAR Labs has raised some… concerns about the health of this body and its inhabitants.” 

Barry’s heart stopped.  “Concerns – as in they think there’s something wrong with you?  What did they find?” 

“It’s nothing to be alarmed about yet,” Martin said, looking faintly apologetic.  “But it will certainly bear monitoring.  Caitlin is worried about our baseline measurements.  Even though our mental state has stabilized, our physical state still appears to be in a state of flux.  Due to the reactions taking place in our cells, our body temperature is gradually rising.  It’s a slow process, but if it continues unchecked, there’s the possibility that it could set off a chain reaction.” 

Through the cold shock of adrenaline, Barry turned over the words _chain reaction_ in his head.  If Firestorm’s powers came from nuclear fusion, an uncontrolled chain reaction would be _bad._ “So you’re telling me that you and Ronnie are dying?” 

Martin grimaced.  “I think _dying_ is something of an exaggeration.  It would be more accurate to say that Ronald and I are undergoing a metamorphosis.” 

Barry’s fingers tightened on the edge of the booth.  “If the end result of that _metamorphosis_ is the two of you _combusting in a nuclear explosion,_ I think it’s pretty safe to say you’re dying.”

Martin winced at the anger in Barry’s voice.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not trying to make light of the situation, but I don’t want you to give up hope.  We need more data, but at our current rate of acceleration, Ronald and I have approximately a month to come up with a cure for our condition before our situation becomes dangerous.” 

Barry drew in a shaky breath.  A month.  That wasn’t good, but it was better than nothing.  “Do you think you’ll be able to come up with something by then?” 

Martin nodded.  “I’m certain of it.  Our research session today wasn’t entirely without its merits.  It won’t be an easy process, but I’m confident that we will eventually come up with a solution that will allow us to safely splice ourselves into two separate entities again.” 

Barry swallowed.  “Okay,” he said.  “As long as you don’t stop trying.  Just – figure out how to fix this.  Doctor Wells is brilliant, but he’s not you.  Nobody knows your research better than you do.  Also, scoot over.  I’m coming over there.” 

Martin obliged, a tiny hint of a smile breaking through the cloud on his face as Barry crammed himself into the booth next to him.  It was definitely bizarre, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his foster dad when he was technically wearing someone else’s body, but he was still _there,_ and to Barry that was what mattered. 

They finished the rest of their pizza sitting side by side, and if their shoulders occasionally brushed against each other while they ate, neither of them said anything about it. 

* * *

Packing for a trip in the Ozarks highlighted the disparities between Len and Mick’s powers in ways that were already proving entertaining.  Len was able to get away with packing his essentials in a duffel bag, but when Mick emerged from his house holding several large suitcases, Len had been forced to take a minute to compose himself before stepping out of the car to give his friend a hand. 

“Not a word,” Mick said, shoving the most readily accessible bag into Len’s arms.  “When I said I was packing every pair of long underwear I owned, I meant it.” 

“We’ll have to unload the car before we go into town for groceries,” Len said, opening the back door and pushing the luggage up into the seat.  “Unless we want to risk putting them in the bed of the pickup.” 

Mick shook his head.  “Not worth it, on these hills.  They could bounce out.” 

“True,” Len conceded.  Driving a truck had its advantages, but there was only so much storage space in the cab.    

Len hadn’t expected to end up the owner of a pickup truck when he’d started looking for a new vehicle, but he’d had the good luck to come across several good options during the last recession.  He’d ended up buying a black Dodge Ram 1500 with less than ten thousand miles on it and a spotless maintenance record, figuring that it made sense for him to own a reliable car capable of hauling his motorcycle if the need arose.  He didn’t drive the truck very often, which was a blessing since gas in the Twin Cities wasn’t cheap, but it came in handy on their trips to the mountains and handled the snow better than Mick’s Impala.

“Any idea how long this side trip of yours will take?” Mick asked.  “There’s no traffic on I-44, so we’re in the clear to leave town.”

Len nodded.  “Good.  I can’t see it taking more than a few minutes, unless there’s a real emergency, but that isn’t likely.”  Stopping at Jitters would also give Len the chance to tell the Flash that he was leaving town.  He hadn’t seen the speedster since he’d found out about the trip, so it would be a good opportunity to pass along the news.  “We will need to stop for gas at some point before we get to Springfield,” Len continued.  “I have about half a tank, but I’d rather stop before we get to the mountains.”

Mick nodded.  “We can get some snacks too.”

According to Google Maps, the trip from Central City to Springfield would take three hours and nineteen minutes from their current location.  Accounting for extra travel time into and out of the downtown area, Len estimated that they’d reach the town at around 1 AM, and the location of their cabin at closer to 1:30.   If they stopped at a gas station, stocking up on snacks and some breakfast food would give them more flexibility on timing when it came time to make a trip into town for the week’s actual groceries.

The engine rumbled to life when Len turned the car on, and he sighed inwardly as Mick cranked up the car’s thermostat and angled all the heat vents toward himself.  “If this thermostat goes a hair above seventy, I’m turning this car around.  There’s blankets in the back seat.”

Mick rolled his eyes but turned around and grabbed a blanket anyway.  Len’s lips twitched.

The drive to Jitters was short and blessedly free of traffic.  Len was able to find a parking place near the coffee shop without too much effort.  He wasn’t the best at parallel parking, especially in such a large vehicle, so being able to pull straight into a space was a relief.

He left the truck idling when he got out so that Mick could continue to take advantage of the heater, since he wasn’t sure how long his meeting with the Flash would last.  There was plenty of gas in the car, and since Mick would be freezing in a cabin before the end of the night, Len figured he’d let his friend stay comfortable while he could.

As Len climbed the fire escape, he could hear the faint sound of footsteps gradually growing louder.  When the rooftop came into sight, he could see why.  The Flash was already there, pacing back and forth across the rooftop at a speed just barely too fast for a normal human to manage.

Len’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced at his watch.  It was nine o’ clock exactly.  Not only was the Flash pacing across the rooftop like a twitchy subject in a holding cell, he’d actually been early to their meeting.  This had the potential to be interesting.

“Pacing to keep warm, Flash?” Len called as he emerged onto the rooftop.  “Seems a bit unseasonable for that outfit.”

The Flash spun around at the sound of his voice, but seemed more surprised than alarmed by his appearance.  “You’re funny,” he said, a blurry smile just visible beneath the line of his cowl.  “There’s actually therma-threading in my suit – it keeps me warm and toasty.”

Len nodded.  That explained why the speedster was able to run around in the same outfit without suffering any ill effects from the cold.  His own gloves were good at distributing heat evenly, so it made sense that a scaled-up version of the same effect would provide benefits to a speedster.

He wondered if the Reverse-Flash had ever worked therma-threading into the lining of his own costume.  Hopefully that wasn’t the case.

“As much as I’d like to swap costuming tips, I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry today,” Len said.  “My best friend and I are due to leave town after this, unless you have an emergency.”

The Flash immediately shook his head.  “No, don’t worry – it isn’t an emergency.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “I guess I must have seemed pretty cryptic, leaving a note on your desk like that.  I figured it was the best way to make sure you found it, but I didn’t want to say too much.”

“Makes sense,” Len said, nodding.  “You could have called, though.  I gave you my number.  There’s no need to break into the precinct after hours just to leave a note on my desk.”

The Flash grimaced.  “Okay, good point.  Next time I’ll do that, but to be honest I kind of… forgot about that?  It seemed faster to leave a note, but I see your point.  I’ll just find a payphone next time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Len said, trying not to frown lest the Flash get the wrong idea.  Flash wasn’t acting like himself – instead of the good-natured banter that Len had gotten used to, he seemed to be falling all over himself to apologize for something that Len had found more amusing than troublesome.  “What’s on your mind, Scarlet?”

The Flash’s shoulders relaxed slightly at Len’s use of his nickname, but they didn’t lose their tension entirely.  “It’s honestly kind of self-indulgent,” the speedster said, rubbing the back of his neck again before reaching into a small pocket on his belt.  “I’m probably overreacting - but anyway.  I brought you something.”

He pulled out a round object, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.  Len tilted his head and took a step forward, trying to get a closer look.

“I know you won’t be able to use this right away, since you’re leaving town and stuff, but ever since you told me that the Reverse-Flash broke into your apartment, I’ve felt really weird about knowing that you wouldn’t be able to get in touch with me if someone came gunning for you,” the Flash said.  He held up his hand, and Len saw that he was holding a small round button, black with a circle of red located in the middle.  “I had a friend at STAR Labs make this for me to pass along to you.  If you press down on the circle in the center and hold it for three seconds, it’ll send me an emergency alert along with your location.”

Len stepped forward and took the button from the Flash’s outstretched hand.  “Where does the emergency signal go to?” he said, turning the button over and examining it.  He was relieved that the speedster hadn’t put a lightning-bolt emblem or any other kind of signature on the device; while his working relationship with the Flash was fairly common knowledge around the station, it wouldn’t be prudent to wave it in everyone’s faces.  There was such a thing as being too on-the-nose, especially when it came to friendships with vigilantes.

“Right now it goes to a BlackBerry with some hidden extra features, but I’m thinking about developing an app to patch the alerts through to my phone,” the Flash said, and Len’s eyebrows rose.  “I have it on me pretty much all the time, and I’m used to checking regularly it for work.”

There was definitely something going on with the Flash today, Len decided.  He’d never heard the speedster talk about his civilian life at all, and now he was sharing details about his work habits.  “I’d make a joke about kids and their phones these days, but since you’re also using a BlackBerry, I think I might be missing the mark by a decade or two,” he quipped, hoping the joke would lighten the mood.

It worked; the Flash stared at him for an incredulous second, then laughed the buzzing laugh that Len had heard several times before.  “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me old,” he said, grinning.  “I still get carded everywhere I go.”

Len mentally added _legal drinker_ to the running tally of things he knew about the Flash.  Compared to their early interactions, the list was growing at warp speed.  At least his joke had managed to dispel the worst of the odd tension, although Len still couldn’t help feeling like he was teetering on the edge of something.

He shook himself.  So the Flash was feeling chatty today.  That didn’t have to mean there was anything wrong.

“There’s just one thing about this button, Scarlet,” he said.  “I have a way to let you know if I need help, but there’s no way for you to get in touch with me.”

The Flash nodded.  “I designed it that way on purpose.  We’ve run into trouble with locators before, and I didn’t want anyone to be able to use this to get to you if anything happens to me or the BlackBerry I’m carrying.  That way nobody can invade your privacy.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Len said.  “Looking out for your partner is a two-way street.  If something happens to you, how am I supposed to help you if I don’t know how to find you?” The Flash stared at him silently, and Len felt his alarm tick up by several notches.  “You do know I would come find you if you needed help, don’t you, Scarlet?”

“Yeah,” the Flash said, so quietly that Len could barely hear him.  “I guess I knew that but – it’s different, hearing you say it and stuff.”  The speedster’s eyes were so wide that Len could almost tell what color they were, but no amount of vibration could disguise the steady red flush that was creeping its way up the lower half of his face.

Len suddenly found himself wishing it was possible for him to turn his brain off and back on again.  Had he just made the Flash _blush_ by telling him that he was valued?

What the hell was going on here?

Regardless of where the strange shift in mood had come from, Len could tell he needed to diffuse the tensions somehow.  The Flash was inches away from bolting off the rooftop, and Len didn’t want him to leave on such an odd note when he was going to be out of town.  “So.  What’ll you be up to while I’m gone?” he asked.  If the Flash was keen on talking about himself today, maybe he’d accept the subject change as the white flag that Len intended.

The Flash seized onto Len’s awkward conversational tangent like a drowning man.   “I don’t have any huge plans or anything.  It’s been pretty quiet around here lately, so I might get some training in when I’m not patrolling and protecting the city.  I’m going to have to get faster if I want to be able to do anything about the Reverse-Flash.”

Len nodded.  “I’ll be training too.  Mick is my favorite sparring partner.  If something happens and you end up needing anything from the CCPD, I’ll make sure West and Thawne know to keep an eye out for you.  They’ll be able to reach me by landline if there’s an emergency.”

“Makes sense – no cell service and all,” the Flash said, nodding in reply.  “But take it easy, okay?  We’ll be able to keep things handled here.  You should focus on enjoying your trip, not worrying about us.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Len said wryly.  If only it were as easy as they made it sound.  “If anything does happen while I’m gone, I’m sure the CCPD will appreciate the help.”

“Eh.”  The speedster scuffed one leather-clad foot across the rooftop before he looked up at Len.  “It’s nice if they don’t mind me hanging around, but to be honest?  I’m not doing it for the CCPD,” the Flash said, and Len’s stomach lurched when their eyes locked.  “You’re not the only person who’s been pushing me to do more with my life, but – you matter too.  A lot.  Just so you know.”

He looked away, but not before Len saw the telltale red flush beginning to creep up his neck again.  “Scarlet,” he said cautiously.  “Are you okay?”

The speedster’s shoulders hunched.  “It’s – I do have some stuff I want to talk about, but it can wait.  I’ll tell you about it when you get back.  Have a good trip, alright?  And tell Mick I told him to make sure he doesn’t freeze to death out there.”

“I will,” Len said.  The teetering feeling was back, stronger this time, but he could already sense that there would be no baiting the Flash into small talk this time.  The speedster gave him a jerky nod before disappearing into the night with a crackle of static that left Len’s hair standing on end.

Len took a deep breath as he watched the trail of lightning race away.  His fingers tightened reflexively, and he looked down to see that he was still holding the emergency locator that the Flash had given him.

By all means, this conversation should have felt like a success.  The Flash had asked Len to meet him because he’d wanted to give Len an emergency locator, and Len had accepted it.  He hadn’t even had to ask the Flash to keep an eye on Central City while he was gone – the speedster had offered to do it on his own.

So why the hell was Len feeling so confused?  What was it that he was missing?

He forced his feet to start moving until he was leaving the rooftop and descending the staircase.  He and Mick were on a timetable; he didn’t have the luxury of spending the entire night standing on the roof of a coffee shop and wondering what it was about Scarlet’s behavior that had puzzled him so much.

Was it the blushing?  That had definitely been odd, but it hadn’t been _alarming._ Len wasn’t sure what had prompted it, but he was fairly confident he could get to the bottom of the reaction if he replayed the conversation in his head.  Maybe it was something Scarlet had said, and nothing to do with him.

Regardless of what had caused it, there had been something about that encounter that was just _off_ enough that it had Len feeling on edge.  He had a sinking suspicion that if he didn’t figure it out, the question would continue to nag at him throughout his and Mick’s vacation, and that wasn’t what Len wanted.  He wanted to have his head in the game, whether he was training or relaxing, and he couldn’t do that if he was being consistently sidetracked by the conundrum of a speedster that he’d befriended back in his hometown.  

“Well you look like hell,” Mick commented when Len climbed into the passenger seat.  “Did Little Red try and break up with you again?”

“What?  No,” Len said, shooting his best friend a puzzled look.  “He just wanted to give me this.”  He dropped the small button into Mick’s hand.  “Don’t press it.  Flash said it’s an emergency locator.” 

“Huh.”  Mick turned the button over in his hand.  “Makes sense, but it doesn’t explain why you look like somebody kicked a dog in front of you.” 

Len shifted the truck into drive with more force than was strictly necessary.  “Something’s up with the Flash,” he said.  “He wasn’t acting like himself.” 

Mick hummed.  “Could be he was just having a bad night.” 

Len immediately shook his head.  “It’s more than that.  He said he had something he needed to tell me, but that it could wait until I got back from my trip.” 

“Do you think he’ll tell you about it, whatever it is?” Mick said. 

Len pursed his lips.  “I’m not sure.” 

They lapsed into silence after that.  Mick put the radio onto one of their compromise stations, and for a while Len was content to let himself be soothed by the sound of classic rock.  But there was still a part of him that continued to fiddle at his meeting with the Flash, turning it over in his mind as if he was probing at a sore tooth.   

The Flash had been nervous when Len had first arrived, but Len had managed to distract him from his initial anxiety, suggesting that Len himself wasn’t the primary cause.  Len was willing to attribute some of his odd behavior to nerves about the locator he’d offered.  If Flash had already run into trouble using them in the past, he might have been worried about Len refusing to use the device in an emergency.  The Flash hadn’t seemed worried about the obvious risk – that Len or someone else might use the locator to lure him into a trap.  Len was gratified that the speedster thought well enough of him that he didn’t consider it possible, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. 

But if none of that had accounted for the Flash’s unusually flustered reactions and hasty departure, what did? 

He thought back over their conversation, casting back and trying to remember the exact wording of what he’d said.  The Flash had blushed at the implication that Len cared about him, but the initial trigger of the reaction had been before that, when he’d assured the Flash that they were friends and that he’d look out for the speedster if he needed it. 

Except, now that Len thought about it, he hadn’t used the word _friend._ What he’d actually said was that he’d look out for his _partner._

Len’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.  “Fuck.”

“Did you forget your toothbrush?” Mick said. 

Len shook his head, fumbling for the radio dial and turning the music down.  “I think I just told the Flash we were partners.” 

Mick whistled.  “Damn.  Haven’t heard that word from you in a while, but I can’t say I’m surprised.  Finally getting tired of West and Thawne?” 

Len kept his eyes fixed on the road.  “You know third-wheeling with them wasn’t my call.  I didn’t choose this.” 

“You said Singh tried his best to stop your old partner from leaving, but he was an asshole,” Mick pointed out, and Len’s jaw tensed involuntarily.  “I’m saying it isn’t unexpected, you and Flash.  You don’t do the loner thing well.” 

“Mick.”  Len’s voice came out sharp.  “Drop it.” 

Mick fell silent immediately.  Len took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on driving, keeping the car on his side of the dotted white line as his fingers gradually released their strangling grip on the steering wheel. 

“Sorry,” he said once his breathing was back to normal.  “I shouldn’t have snapped.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mick said.  “I know it’s a sore subject.” 

Len watched the road, uncertain about how to articulate what he was thinking.  “It’s different with Flash than it was with Scudder,” he said, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mick sit up straighter in his seat.  “I didn’t mean anything formal by it, and I think Scarlet knows that.  He doesn’t want to work within the system, and he probably wouldn’t be a good fit for the CCPD anyway, even if he did end up making Detective.  But it’s different working with someone who gets it.” 

Mick nodded.  “Makes sense to me.  Another meta in the public service sector, even if your methods don’t always line up.” 

Privately, Len reflected that his odd chemistry with the Flash probably made a difference too.  They worked well together, and were able to coordinate plans with a degree of synchronicity that Len usually gained with experience.  It also made sense that he’d started subconsciously sorting the speedster into a role in his life that had been vacant for some time.  Eight months winging it with West and Thawne hadn’t made him feel like less of a third wheel, even if they’d always done his best to include him. 

He’d like to think that he might not have jumped at the first trustworthy meta interested in working with him if he’d been healthier about the idea of finding a new partner in the first place, but he’d be damned if he’d admit it out loud.  And he probably would have ended up feeling drawn to the Flash regardless.  The kid had an orbit, and somehow Len had landed square in the middle of it. 

At least, if the speedster’s stammered reply on the rooftop was anything to go by, the sense of camaraderie was reciprocated.  “I probably scared the hell out of him, springing that,” Len said.

“Maybe a week will give him time to get used to the idea,” Mick suggested. 

“Could be.”  Len turned the music back up, signaling the end of the conversation, and returned his full attention to the road.  He still felt like there was more to examine about what had happened on the rooftop tonight, but he’d solved some of the puzzle.  He could let the rest of it sit for a while longer. 

They stopped at a gas station roughly forty-five minutes outside the Springfield city limit.  Mick went inside to buy snacks and water while Len pumped the gas, a division of labor that saved time and also prevented Mick from freezing to death with one hand on the pump.

Len locked the handle into place, then took a step away from the pump to check his text messages.  It was seven minutes past midnight, which meant that in all likelihood Lisa was on her way home from her date with Cisco, unless she’d decided to stay the night.

Sure enough, he had a message from her.   _The date was fun!  We’re doing it again next week._

Len’s lips twitched.  For his sister to already have plans with Cisco again, the date had probably been a bit more than _fun._ He wondered exactly what Cisco had done to impress her.

A full rundown could wait until they saw each other in person, though.  For now, Len could stick to a bit of teasing.   _When should I expect my wedding invitation?_ he sent before returning to the main messages screen.

As he’d hoped, there were two additional texts, both from Barry.   _How’s the drive going so far?_ he’d asked, followed almost immediately by a _Whoops!  If you’re getting close you probably don’t have reception so you won’t even see this, sorry!_

The message was followed by several emojis, and Len felt the corners of his mouth softening in spite of himself.   _We’re about an hour away,_ he replied.   _Stopped for gas and snacks outside town._

The gas meter clunked to a halt, and Len slid his phone into his pocket before wiggling the pump free and placing it back in its slot.  Aside from the snacks at the gas station, Len was covering the cost of gas and groceries since Mick was paying for the cabin itself.  When he’d tried to split the cost of the cabin to make things fair, Mick had gone mysteriously deaf until Len had sighed and dropped the subject. 

His phone buzzed several times as he paid for the gas.  It was probably Barry texting him back; even during work hours he was always quick to respond to messages.

Sure enough, when he opened his phone he had three new texts from Barry.

_Oh awesome! Drive safe and have fun :)_

_Crap I almost forgot, do you know the coldest temperature your ice can get to?_

_If you can make your ice colder it might be more effective against RF_

Len tilted his head.   _Good idea,_ he typed.   _I’ve never checked.  Once I get the chance I’ll let you know what I find._

_Cool!  Talk to you at some point, I’ll send you more ideas if I have them!_

Len smiled and exited back out to the main menu of his message screen.  It was tempting to keep texting Barry, but there wasn’t much point in getting drawn into a longer conversation when he was going to have to start driving again in a few minutes.  He could look forward to any subsequent texts later, although from the last of Barry’s messages he was guessing that Barry was busy with something else.

He also had a message from Lisa waiting for him.   _Ha ha, very funny.  I’ll let you know if I decide to become a Mrs. Ramon after the second date._

Len snorted, then paused.  He reread the message, and his breath caught in his chest.

Cisco’s last name was Ramon.

Len forced himself to breathe normally as his mind started to race.  On its own, Cisco’s last name wasn’t enough evidence to settle things – there were probably plenty of Ramons living in Central City, so the chances of Cisco being the same Ramon that Dr. Wells had spoken to over the intercom at STAR Labs was fairly low.  But as it was, Len had already seen ample evidence of the kid’s genius.  The first time they’d met, Len had seen Cisco program a working Flash locator using social media posts in less than thirty minutes.

Although, since Len also knew that the Flash was affiliated with STAR Labs, it was also possible that Cisco could have just told the Flash that Len was looking for him, and sent the speedster to meet him at Jitters. 

The urge to confirm his suspicion itched at the base of his skull, and with a grimace Len unlocked his phone.  He wasn’t going to ask Lisa where Cisco worked; since they’d only been on one date, it was likely that the subject hadn’t come up, and if he asked her Lisa would definitely want to know the motive behind his sudden curiosity.

That didn’t mean Len couldn’t turn to the internet.

Len opened a Google window and typed in Cisco’s name, pointedly ignoring his own disappointment in himself.  He could have justified it by arguing that Cisco’s business was his business, since he was dating Len’s sister, but the truth of the matter was that Len was snooping because he wanted to.  He didn’t get free license to handwave his personal code of ethics, or what kind of a cop would he be?

Nothing immediately relevant came up when he searched for ‘Cisco Ramon,’ and for a second Len pursed his lips.  Then it occurred to him – Cisco was probably a nickname.  He backspaced and replaced his first query with ‘Ramon STAR Labs,’ then pressed Enter.

This time, there were plenty of hits.  Most of them were news headlines, but there were a few other results scattered in among them.  Len chose the one that jumped out at him most: a profile hosted on the official STAR Labs website, about halfway down the second page of search results.

When the page loaded, Len drew in a sharp breath.  There was no picture, but the name at the top of the page, Francisco Ramon, could easily be shortened to Cisco.  He was listed as one of STAR Labs’ engineers, although there was no mention of what his role had been in relation to the particle accelerator.

Len closed the tab on his phone and shoved it into his pocket.  Having his suspicions more or less confirmed had assuaged his curiosity, but it hadn’t made him feel better.  He supposed he deserved it for prying.  All the same, the knowledge that the man Lisa had just started dating had probably worked on the particle accelerator sat uneasily in the pit of Len’s stomach.

The aftermath of the particle accelerator explosion had brought out the ugly side of Central’s citizens, especially once the knowledge of metahuman powers began to spread.  There had been multiple instances of harassment against STAR Labs employees, especially those known to have been involved in the design and construction of the particle accelerator.  Harrison Wells had received several well-publicized death threats, and the general consensus among the population had been that his fall from grace was entirely deserved.

As one of the first metahumans to develop powers, Len had also gotten his fifteen minutes of fame, with mixed results from both the public and the people in his life.  He’d retained as much privacy as he could given the circumstances; immediately after Dr. Wells’ press conference had aired, Len had password-protected all of his personal social media accounts and removed as much of his personal information from the internet as he could.  In the end, the media circus had died away quickly and Len had been spared the worst of the firestorm, but the attention he didn’t receive had been focused elsewhere, and much of that scrutiny had gone to STAR Labs.

How much personal backlash had Cisco received?  Had he been threatened and hounded by the press?  If he was still working at STAR Labs, was it because he’d chosen to stay or was it because he had nowhere else to go?

Len didn’t like it.  He didn’t like it at all.

He wondered if the Flash was aware that Len and Cisco knew each other.  If Cisco still had a job at STAR Labs, it stood to reason that he probably worked on the Flash’s gear; the speedster had told Len that his suit was made at STAR Labs.  If he was an engineer, Cisco had almost certainly had a hand in the design and construction of the trap that had failed to catch the Reverse-Flash.

Len wondered if _Barry_ knew.  His initial guess was that Barry had to at least be aware of where Cisco worked, simply because he couldn’t see the CSI befriending someone without wanting to know as much as he could about them.  But did he know that Cisco had probably helped design the trap to catch his mother’s killer?

He heard a jingling sound behind him, and turned in time to see Mick emerge from the gas station, his arms filled with snacks.  “Can you get the door, buddy?” he called to Len.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Len nodded in a way that he hoped resembled a normal human response.  “Sure.”  He crossed to the truck and yanked the back door open before returning to Mick and unloading a few of his purchases from his over-laden arms.  “Hand warmers?” he said, his lips twitching as he looked down at the small red box in his hands.  

“You’d better believe it,” Mick grunted.  “Nothin’ worse than cold hands.  I got boot warmers too.”

“I’m feeling the need to remind you that this trip was your idea,” Len said.

Mick shot him a look.  “Still doesn’t mean I intend to freeze to death out there.”

Len opened his mouth to make a witty retort, then paused as the wording of Mick’s statement jarred something loose in his memory.  The Flash had said almost exactly the same thing when they’d been discussing Len’s trip, but the longer he thought about it, the more Len became certain that he’d never told the Flash _where_ exactly he and Mick were going.  He’d mentioned they were leaving town for a week, but he’d never told the Flash they were going to the mountains.  Yet, somehow, Scarlet had known that he and Mick would be spending time somewhere cold, and also that Len wouldn’t have good cell phone reception while he was out of town. It was extremely unlikely that the Flash could have guessed that information on his own, and that meant he had to have heard it from somewhere. 

Len frowned.  His coworkers all knew he was going on vacation, but only a handful of people knew the particulars about where he and Mick would be going and what they’d be doing when they got there. 

Mentally, he ran through the list.  There was Lisa, who’d helped Mick plan the trip in the first place.  West and Thawne, who Len had discussed training with at various points over the past forty-eight hours.  Captain Singh, who’d been filled in on at least some of the particulars of the trip when Len and Lisa had spoken to him about it.  And Barry, of course. 

Barry Allen, who was friends with Cisco Ramon, who Len had just connected back to STAR Labs – and to the Flash. 

 The teetering feeling was back again, except this time Len was standing on the edge of a much larger precipice. 

“Snart.  Buddy,” Mick said.  “Anyone home?”

When Len answered, his voice echoed in his ears as if it were coming down a long tunnel.  “Mick, I think I’m going to need you to drive.”

“You’re joking,” Mick said flatly.  “You’d rather die than let me drive this truck.”

Len shook his head.  “I’m not joking.  Take the keys and get in the truck.”

Whatever Mick saw on Len’s face, it must have convinced him.  He took the keys.  “Damn.  Why the switch?  Knees giving you trouble or something?”

“I think I’m on the edge of putting together what was bothering me about my conversation with the Flash tonight,” Len said, “and I don’t like it.  If I’m behind the wheel, I’m not sure there’s a force on the planet strong enough to stop me from turning this car around, going back to Central City, and getting some answers.”

“Damn,” Mick said again.  “You planning on letting me in on the details at some point tonight?”

Len almost laughed.  “I need to think about some things first,” he replied.  “If I come up with anything that makes any degree of sense whatsoever, I’ll pass it along.”   

Mick shrugged.  “That’s cryptic as hell, but okay.  Get in the car.”

Len climbed into the passenger seat and mechanically buckled his seatbelt before surrendering his thoughts to the downward force of gravity. 

First things first – before he brought the Flash into his runaway train of logic, Len needed to cement the connection between Barry and STAR Labs.  Most of the evidence he had was tenuous and wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny, but if he was able to bring in enough puzzle pieces, the odds were higher that what he saw would add up to a genuine pattern as opposed to a string of coincidences. 

The first link in the chain was Barry’s friendship with Cisco.  Len wasn’t an expert on Barry’s social life, and he didn’t claim to know what Cisco did during his free time, but it seemed unlikely that the two of them would run in the same circles, especially since Barry was comparatively new in town.  If Barry had spent time at STAR Labs, it would explain how he and Cisco had met.  It would also explain how Barry was able to find an engineer to incorporate therma-threading into the gloves he’d given Len for Christmas.  If Cisco had worked therma-threading into the Flash suit, making a pair of gloves must have seemed like a cakewalk in comparison. 

The gloves weren’t the only time that Len had been offered a piece of tech made by a mysterious friend.  Len allowed his thoughts to veer onto that trajectory, and the more he mulled it over, the greater the similarities he saw between the night with Barry at the holiday party and the encounter he’d just had with the Flash on the rooftop.  Had Cisco been the person at STAR Labs who’d made Len’s locator button?  It seemed likely, although it would be impossible to verify without asking. 

The more Len allowed himself to think, the more coincidences began to fit themselves into place.  It was like he’d started rolling a snowball down a mountain; he couldn’t halt its progress, or stop it from growing now that it was moving on its own. 

Barry had lived in Starling City for several years; the Flash and Starling City’s vigilante somehow knew each other, despite the Flash never having been active in Starling City.  Barry and the Flash had similar body language, especially when startled or embarrassed.  The Flash had been protective of Iris West when she’d been held hostage by Tony Woodward, a metahuman against whom Barry had a known personal grudge.  Barry’s willingness to remove himself from cases like the Woodward case, and the trap at STAR Labs, made a lot more sense if he’d been able to bank on being present as the Flash.

Even Len’s odd friendship with the Flash had closely paralleled the development in his relationship with Barry.  If he examined things in that context, the speedster’s rapid thaw toward him hadn’t been a coincidence; it had been a direct reflection of how close he and Barry were becoming.  It also lent new perspective to the speedster’s flustered reaction to Len calling him a partner, even if the way he’d meant it when he said it to the Flash was very different from what Len would have wanted to say to Barry. 

And then, if Len went all the way back to the beginning, the Flash had appeared in Central City almost exactly the same day that Barry had started working at the CCPD. 

Until that day, Barry had been in a coma – a coma caused by an accident that he’d had the night the particle accelerator had exploded. 

Len dragged a hand over his face.  It was insane, but if Barry and the Flash were the same person, it would explain every single event in the bizarre chain of coincidences that had deposited themselves at Len’s feet. 

The only thing it didn’t explain was why Barry hadn’t told him the truth. 

_I do have some stuff I want to talk about, but it can wait.  I’ll tell you about it when you get back._

Maybe he’d been trying, in his own way.  Len had to hope so.  The alternative – hurt. 

But not liking the reality of the situation wouldn’t change anything.  He couldn’t bury his head in the sand and make this idea go away.  He could only confirm it or deny it, and he had a sinking suspicion that he and Barry were overdue for a very long, very awkward heart-to-heart.   

Len glanced sideways at his best friend and took a deep breath.  “Mick, I think Barry Allen might be the Flash.” 

The words fell into empty space, punctuated only by the hum of the car’s engine, and there was a part of Len that wished he could reach out a hand and snatch them back.  Now that he’d said it out loud, there would be no more pretending.  And the less he was able to pretend, the more the reality of the situation settled beneath his skin like a layer of ice. 

It was all so obvious, now that he’d thought about it.  Maybe Len had been pretending to himself for longer than he knew. 

“Well shit,” Mick breathed.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?  What are you going to do?” 

Len looked out of the windshield and watched the lines on the road flicker by.  “I don’t know,” he said quietly.  “But it looks like I have a week to figure it out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... that happened. ;) 
> 
> I will say that this wasn't the original version of how I'd planned to have Len find out, but I'm much happier with this than what I'd first thought of doing. Len's so smart, and he's good at putting together seemingly unrelated information to form a coherent picture. The way I figured, all it would take to start the ball rolling for him would be a little extra information, especially now that Barry's started letting his guard down and making mistakes. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I had a fantastic time writing this chapter and was really excited to share a plot development right before the holidays. I'll see you all in 2018! :D


	31. Blueshift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! It's good to be back, and I'm happy to be posting the first chapter of 2018! I wanted to get it posted before this weekend since I'll be busy with convention stuff, so an extra thanks to my beta for taking some time out of the middle of her week to read this chapter over for me. 
> 
> Before I get to the chapter, I just wanted to extend a massive thank-you to everyone who shared feedback on the last chapter. I'd been excited to get to the Len reveal for so long, but I was absolutely blown away by your response - I got _double_ the amount of comments I usually get on updates, and it really made my holiday to see that so many people enjoyed Chapter 30. So seriously - thank you so much, each and every one of you, both for commenting and for sticking with this fic for so long. I wouldn't have nearly as much fun writing this AU without all of you.

When Barry bolted away from Len on the rooftop, he didn’t have a destination in mind other than _somewhere else._ He’d done what he came out to do – he’d given Len the locator button, he’d explained how it worked, and he’d wished him a happy vacation while promising to look out for the city while he was gone.

All of that had been fine.  What had thrown Barry for a loop what Len had said and done in response.  He’d noticed that Barry was on edge right away, and then he’d tried to calm Barry down with _small talk_.  

And then there was the partner thing.  Oh god.  Len obviously hadn’t meant it the way he would have if he’d been talking to Barry while he wasn’t wearing the suit, but he’d still said it.  Barry wasn’t sure which had made him blush harder, the fact that Len liked and trusted the Flash enough to say that when he had no clue he was talking to Barry, or the fact that he’d used the word _partner_ in the first place.

What exactly did it say about Barry as a person that Len looking him dead in the eye and promising to have his back if he needed help was simultaneously one of the kindest and sexiest things that had happened to him in his entire life?

Barry shivered at the memory and poured on a little more speed, until it occurred to him that he was probably running too fast.  He didn’t want to cause a sonic boom within city limits unless there was a genuine emergency, but the thought of slowing down or stopping was also unpleasant.  There was a combination of nerves, adrenaline, and flustered arousal rushing through his system like jet fuel, and if he didn’t burn it off, Barry was halfway convinced he might vibrate out of his skin.

He angled his trajectory across the river and past the city limits, racing along the shoulder of the quiet interstate until he remembered that Len and Mick were out here on the road somewhere.  He winced and veered off the highway onto a side street.  The last thing he needed was for Len to see him running through the countryside like a bat out of hell – he’d definitely know that something was wrong.

Barry kept a careful eye on his speed once he left the smooth, even surface of the road.  He hadn’t done much running on terrain before, and the last thing he needed was to trip over a rock while he was running at roughly the speed of sound.  When he didn’t have any trouble, he gradually allowed himself to open up the throttle until he was cruising along at a nice, even pace.

Maybe there was something to be said for running in order to burn off excess emotion.  Barry could feel himself beginning to come down off the jumbled-up rush that had propelled him off the rooftop in the first place, but it wasn’t unpleasant and it didn’t feel like the way he sometimes crashed after a panic attack.  Instead it was more like stretching a cramped muscle, or scratching an itch.

As he relaxed and allowed his stride to open up, Barry felt a shift in his momentum as running suddenly became easier than it had been before.  He stumbled briefly but was able to correct his stride without losing too much speed.  In hindsight, the sensation shouldn’t have surprised him.  He hadn’t run this fast since he’d broken the sound barrier while fighting Tony, and he’d been swept up by this energy then too.

Barry hadn’t had much time to make observations that night – he’d been too busy worrying about Iris and focusing on how to beat Tony to be able to think properly.  But he was currently in the middle of nowhere with no other responsibilities, and analyzing a mystery had always been a favorite strategy when he needed to ground himself.

Besides, he hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Len he needed to get faster.  If he was going to have to deal with this energy every time he broke the sound barrier, he was going to have to get used to it sooner or later.

Barry breathed deeply and took stock of his situation.  He was running smoothly, more smoothly than he had been before he’d reached his current speed, and he still felt in control of himself – definitely an improvement over the previous times he’d encountered this energy.  Instead of being shoved from behind, he felt like he was on the crest of a wave, riding whatever force was helping to carry him along.

Experimentally, Barry tried to increase his speed and was alarmed both by how easily he was able to do so and by the tendrils of ghostly blue light that started creeping into the corners of his vision when he maintained the higher pace.   _Hell no._ Barry immediately dropped back down to his previous speed, and let out a relieved breath when the blue light vanished.  Whatever that was, he didn’t want to deal with it yet – sensing an unknown energy field was bizarre enough without seeing things too.  

On closer reflection, he’d also probably done enough running for today.  Barry allowed his speed to drop further, and the strange energy receded along with it until he was running entirely under his own power again.  Compared to the nearly-effortless gliding he’d experienced earlier, it was like his limbs were weighed down with concrete.

Barry skidded to a stop, breathing hard for a few minutes until he got his wind back.  His legs were burning and his heart was racing, to say nothing of the fact that he could have eaten his way through a pile of Big Belly Burgers, but all things considered he didn’t feel any more exhausted than he did after a normal training session.  Considering how much faster he’d been running than he did in training, he should have been worn out, or at least completely winded – but after he’d had a big meal and a rest break, Barry was confident that he could cover the same distance again with little trouble.

The run had done wonders for his mental state too.  The noisy tangle of emotions had burned itself out at some point, and had been replaced by an oddly zen-like state of focus.  Maybe this was why Felicity swore by yoga and meditation.  Barry couldn’t meditate to save his life, but if running was this effective at clearing his head, he would have to challenge himself to push his top speed more often.

He definitely had questions about the mysterious energy he’d felt, especially since he’d been able to coexist with it this time instead of scrabbling for control.  Hopefully Dr. Wells would be able to help him come up with some answers – and Martin might have extra insights as well.  But for now, Barry was content to enjoy some rare peace and quiet, both in his own head and in the night around him.

Although… that did raise a point.  Barry looked around; there was some light from the full moon, enough to show him that he was standing in a scrubby patch of sagebrush, but there were no urban lights anywhere.  Barry couldn’t see so much as a streetlight, much less the bright glow of the Central City skyline.

He pressed a hand to his earpiece, activating his comm.  “Um – is anyone there?” he said nervously.  “Cisco?  Dr. Wells?”

“Barry, hello,” Dr. Wells replied, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  If STAR Labs had been empty, Barry would have had to figure out how to get back on his own, which would have been interesting given that he had no idea where he actually was.  “Do you need something?”

“I was actually wondering if somebody could tell me where I am?  I think I’m lost,” Barry said.

“I’ve got you covered,” Cisco said.  Keys clattered in the background, and Barry heard Cisco’s sharp intake of breath.  “Um, Barry?  Is there any particular reason you’re standing in a field in the middle of Nevada?”

Barry blinked.  “A field in the middle of where now?”

“Dude, you’re in Nevada,” Cisco said.  “You’re nearly _four hundred and fifty miles_ from Central City.  What were you doing?”

“I was just running!” Barry protested.  “I wanted to burn off some steam.  I didn’t realize I’d gone that far.  What time is it?”

“It’s almost nine forty-five,” Cisco said.  “How come?”

Barry’s jaw dropped as he ran the numbers.  “I started running around nine fifteen, give or take a few minutes,” he said.  “If I ran four hundred and fifty miles in half an hour, I was averaging _nine hundred_ miles per hour.”

“Holy shit,” Cisco breathed.  “That’s a new record!  New personal best, baby!”

Barry bit his lip to keep from laughing as Cisco’s whoops of excitement.  If he wasn’t trying to listen to the comms, he’d probably be cheering himself – he’d gone faster than he ever had before, and it hadn’t been nearly as hard or scary as he’d been expecting, once he’d let himself relax a little bit.

“I’m impressed, Barry,” Dr. Wells said.  “It seems you’ve had something of a breakthrough.  Now, how are you feeling?”

“A little tired and really hungry, but it’s nothing a few energy bars won’t take care of,” Barry replied.  “I was planning to run back to STAR Labs, actually.  I just don’t know how to get there.”

“Leave the navigating to us,” Dr. Wells said.  “You’ll have to stop periodically to adjust your course, but see if you can find your own way back while you’re running.  We’ll help you adjust your heading when you stop to rest.”

“Okay,” Barry said.  “I’ll let you know when I’m about to start.  I probably won’t run as fast on the way back, though, so it might be an hour before I make it back to the lab.”

“I was planning on a late night,” Dr. Wells said.  “Take all the time you need.”

 Barry sat down on a nearby rock and unzipped the snack compartment on his utility belt, wincing when he realized he’d eaten all but one of his energy bars.  He was going to be starving by the time he got back to STAR Labs, but he’d be able to make it without having to do a drive-by at some tiny local convenience store in the middle of the sticks.  Stealing from massive grocery store chains was one thing; mom-and-pop shops were another, and he wasn’t about to risk dipping into their ability to make ends meet when he had the wherewithal to get home as long as he pushed himself.

He choked down the energy bar, grimacing slightly at the bland flavor.  They were an improvement over the early batches, at least – a meal that tasted like nothing was definitely better than a meal that tasted like an unholy combination of rancid caramel and peppermint.  Cisco was a brilliant engineer, but that didn’t mean he was a food scientist.

On the run back, Barry forced himself to keep a closer eye on his speed.  He was running on limited fuel and didn’t want to overexert himself, or end up overshooting Central City and having to double back.  The frequent pauses to double-check his trajectory with Cisco and Dr. Wells were helpful in keeping his speed down, but on the longer stretches when he allowed himself to approach the speed of sound, Barry did try to do what Dr. Wells had suggested and do a bit of navigating on his own.  He didn’t really get the point of the exercise, especially since Dr. Wells’ instructions had been so vague and unspecific in the first place, but he supposed it was worth a try.

It took Barry a little more than an hour to make the return trip to Central City, and by the time he skidded into the Cortex he was more than happy to stop running for the night.  His legs weren’t burning and he could still breathe normally, but the dizziness and the tremors in his hands told him that a blood sugar crash was imminent.  It was all he could do to super-speed his way out of his costume and into the spare sweats he kept on hand for nights like this, and for a minute his vision went so blurry that Barry was afraid he’d actually pass out. 

Luckily, he wasn’t the only person in the Cortex.  Barry waved weakly to Caitlin, its other current resident, who was flipping through some data on the monitors.  “Hi,” he said, propping himself up on the counter with one hand.  “I suddenly am not feeling very well.”

“You don’t say,” Caitlin said, smiling at him wryly.  “Let’s get some sugar and fluids into you, mister athlete.” 

Barry made no effort to resist when she herded him toward the gurney.  His legs were rapidly turning to jello, and without her shoulder to lean on Barry suspected he would have ended up in an undignified heap on the floor.   

When Caitlin started preparing an IV, Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  A dextrose solution would raise his blood sugar much faster than an energy bar, and he was feeling disoriented and dizzy enough that he didn’t particularly want to try eating solid food.  “I thought you’d gone home for the night,” he said, looking up at Caitlin’s face to avoid fixating on the needle in her hand.  “I didn’t hear you on the comms before.” 

“I had gone home, but Cisco called me when he and Doctor Wells saw that your blood sugar was getting low,” Caitlin said.

Barry’s stomach lurched.  “Sorry you had to come all the way back out here to take care of me,” he sighed.  “I guess I overdid it.”

“You did, but aside from your blood sugar your vitals are actually better than I expected,” Caitlin said.  She hung the drip bag from its usual post by his bedside, then gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “Once you’ve absorbed this and had something else to eat, you should be mostly back to normal.  You should still rest tomorrow, though.”

“That’s good – back to normal is good.”  Barry leaned back, resting his head on the gurney.  “I’m planning to take it easy tomorrow anyway, so that shouldn’t be much of a problem.  I’m meeting someone for coffee, and after that I’m going to try catching up with Iris.  We haven’t talked as much since she started working at CCPN.”

“I hope it goes well,” Caitlin said with a small smile.  “Is this the same person you were thinking about getting an apartment with?”

“Wh – yeah, that’s her,” Barry said.  He’d almost forgotten about that cover story, which would have been awkward if Caitlin hadn’t inadvertently jogged his memory.  “Is Doctor Wells going to want to talk about my speed at all?” he said, changing the subject and hoping that Caitlin wouldn’t take notice of his earlier slip.  “Or are he and Martin working right now?” 

“Doctor Wells managed to convince Martin and Ronnie to get some sleep, but he and Cisco are analyzing the data from your suit.  Apparently the numbers are, and I quote, ‘quite something.’  I’m supposed to get them when you’ve finished your IV,” Caitlin said. 

Barry nodded.  “Honestly I’m glad they waited before coming in here to dazzle me with science.  I kind of want to close my eyes for a few minutes,” he said.  “Not in like a fainting way, just a resting way.” 

“I’m not surprised.” Caitlin smiled.  “I’ll dim the lights and let Doctor Wells and Cisco know you’re resting up.  Try not to fall asleep if you can.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Barry said, his lips twitching in a wry smile that he suspected wouldn’t look out of place on Len’s face.  Speaking of which – “Can you pass me my phone before you leave?  I had it with me when I changed, so it should still be in one of the pockets on the suit.”

Caitlin fished the phone out of the suit’s utility belt, along with the BlackBerry that was set up to receive the emergency alerts from Cisco’s red buttons.  “Do you want both of these?” 

“Sure,” Barry said, holding out a hand.  He needed to get into the habit of keeping the BlackBerry on him at all times, the same way he did his phone.  An emergency alert wouldn’t be any use to him if he was hooked to an IV and laying on a gurney halfway across the room.  Not that he expected an alert from Len tonight, since he and Mick were on their way out of town and nothing bad would be happening to them, unless they got in a car accident or something – but still, _if_ something happened, he’d need to be prepared. 

After all, once Cisco got enough buttons made, he’d be giving one to almost everybody who knew his secret identity, along with a few people who didn’t.  With every button he handed out, the likelihood that he’d receive an alert would go up drastically, especially once he managed to pass them along to Joe and Eddie.  As Len’s coworkers and members of the Metahuman Taskforce, there was a decent chance that the Reverse-Flash would target them at some point.  And then there was Lisa, who the Reverse-Flash had already threatened directly. 

Barry bit his lip.  Getting Eddie and Lisa to accept a button from him would be challenging, since neither of them knew his identity and they hadn’t worked together extensively in the past.  Eddie had been there at STAR Labs when he and Len had faced off against the Reverse-Flash, so at least it would be easy to convince him that the other speedster was a legitimate threat. 

Lisa, he had no idea how to approach.  She’d talked to the Flash once, and it had been in passing.  And unless Len had told his sister about the Reverse-Flash breaking into his apartment, which was unlikely, Barry didn’t have any information he could pass along to convince Lisa that she was actually in genuine danger. 

He’d have to figure something out at some point, even if he had to enlist Len’s help, or Cisco’s.  Lisa was the most important person in Len’s life, hands down – of course Barry was going to do everything he could to protect her, even if his situation didn’t make it easy. 

Barry absentmindedly sent Len a text, an inane question about how the drive was going, before remembering that he and Mick’s road trip was taking them straight into a cellular dead zone.  He resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead and fired off an apology before setting his phone to the side.  He didn’t want to annoy Len by inundating his phone with texts – the next time he got signal, his phone would vibrate nonstop as the messages came through.  That would get old _really_ fast. 

He closed his eyes and lay his head back on the gurney, taking measured breaths as he felt his strength slowly return.  The incredible thing about this run was that it hadn’t been exhaustion that stopped him – it had been a lack of food.  If he’d had enough calories on him, he’d have been able to make it back to STAR Labs without any ill effects whatsoever. 

Barry didn’t fall asleep, but it was a near thing.  When he heard Dr. Wells’ and Cisco’s voices approaching, he sat up sharply, blinking his eyes to clear the tiredness away.  “What’s the news?”

“The bad news is, by the time you got back here your blood sugar was in the pits and you were about five minutes away from taking a non-consensual nap,” Cisco said.  “The _good_ news is, you just _shattered_ your top speed record by nearly a hundred miles an hour.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “A hundred miles an hour?” he squeaked.  “What was my top speed?” 

Cisco held out his tablet, and Barry’s jaw hit the floor when he saw the blinking number at the peak of his speed graph.  “Nine hundred sixty-two miles per hour,” he said flatly.  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

“The numbers don’t lie, Barry,” said Dr. Wells.  He wheeled over to Barry’s bedside and tapped the screen with one finger.  “And neither do the sensors in your suit.  It may be hard to believe, but you’ve made a tremendous leap forward tonight.  I’m very proud of you.” 

Barry’s breath caught at his mentor’s words, and the tiny, fond smile that Dr. Wells was directing his way.  “I don’t even know how it happened,” he said, a smile of his own beginning to spread across his face.  “I was just – running.  I knew I was going faster than usual, but I didn’t realize it was that much faster.” 

“Regardless of why you were running, it was an enormous improvement,” Dr. Wells said.  “Do you remember how you felt while you were at your top speed?  Stable, in control?” 

“Things got a little weird when I really pushed my top speed,” Barry admitted.  “The entire time I was running, I felt like there was this – energy of some sort, greasing my wheels.  I’ve felt it before, but this was the first time it didn’t feel like it was too much for me to handle.  But when I hit my top speed, I saw something.”

Dr. Wells sat up slightly straighter in his chair.  “You saw something.  What was it that you saw?”

Barry shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  It wasn’t a thing – it was more like my vision got spotty around the edges.  But instead of going dark, everything went blue.”  He searched his mentor’s face intently.  “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Barry, I do believe you,” Dr. Wells said.  Barry let out a relieved breath.  “I don’t know what exactly it was that you saw, but with testing and training, I’m confident we can find some answers.”

“Plus we can get more data – the energy readings from your suit were like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Cisco said, grinning more widely than Barry had seen since they’d brought Martin and Ronnie back to STAR Labs.  “Maybe the blue you saw was because of your higher speed.  Have you ever heard of Doppler blueshift?”

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Yeah, I have!  I went to this astronomy seminar when I was in college – one of the researchers talked about using Doppler blueshift to determine the relative movement of stars!  If a star is moving towards us, the wavelength of the light it emits is shortened in the direction of travel so that it looks bluer than it actually is.”

“Yeah, that’s it!  But wait a second, that doesn’t work based on what you told us,” Cisco continued, frowning.  “Blueshift is due to motion that occurs relative to the _observer._ So if the blue you saw was because of shifted wavelengths, it would mean that something was moving towards _you,_ and traveling even faster than you were.”

“Okay, well that’s – absolutely terrifying.” Barry didn’t want to think about what he could have been running towards, or what had been flying towards _him_ , in order to generate an effect like that.  “Maybe blueshift isn’t the right explanation, then.”  

“I think it would be best if we avoided speculation until we’ve run some tests,” Dr. Wells said.  “The unknown isn’t always a threat – it can also represent opportunity.  Barry, when you were running, did this… _force_ seem like something that needed to be feared?” 

Now that he thought about it, Barry _hadn’t_ been afraid when he’d been running.  He’d been nervous, but the emotion he remembered most strongly was curiosity, and excitement.  “It wasn’t something scary,” he replied.  “I think if it hadn’t startled me, I would have kept trying to figure out what it was.” 

Of course, if he’d kept running, he would have ended up even further away from Central City than he had.  He swallowed at the idea.  Even if this new force wasn’t a threat in and of itself, it still had the potential to be scary. 

They spent a while longer in the Cortex while the last of Barry’s IV drained into his system, discussing potential tests and training exercises to take advantage of Barry’s newfound speed, but before long the late hour began to take a toll.  Cisco was the first to start yawning, and when Caitlin followed suit Dr. Wells waved a hand and banished them from the Cortex.  “You should leave too, if you’re up for it,” he said, looking up at Barry.  “You’ve worked hard today – that warrants a rest.” 

“I could say the same for you,” Barry retorted, smirking.  It was nice to feel like he could tease Dr. Wells again and get away with it.  “If Martin and Ronnie are asleep, you can call it a night.” 

Dr. Wells tilted his head consideringly.  “I suppose neither of us will be any good to anyone if we run ourselves into the ground,” he said, his lips twitching faintly.  “Very well, I’ll return home for the evening.  But I’ll expect to see all three of you for training tomorrow,” he said, pitching his voice so that it carried to where Cisco and Caitlin were gathering their things. 

Barry nodded.  “Definitely.  I have something to do in the morning and a shift at the CCPD after that, but once I finish with work tomorrow I’m game to run some tests – as long as Caitlin thinks it’ll be okay.” 

“I still say you should take it easy,” Caitlin said, looking at Barry and Dr. Wells with the faintest hint of fond exasperation on her face.  “But there should still be some tests we can run without drawing too heavily on your speed.” 

Caitlin had driven her Fiat to STAR Labs, and for once Barry didn’t argue with her when she suggested that they carpool.  He could have run back to her apartment in seconds, but there was no way he was going to risk it when he’d already had one blood sugar crash today.  Once she started driving he pulled out his phone and checked his messages, more out of habit than because he was expecting to find anything, but to his surprise he saw that he’d gotten a message from Len.  He unlocked his phone, nearly fumbling his passcode in his haste. 

_We’re about an hour away,_ Barry read.   _Stopped for gas and snacks outside town._

Barry’s eyes widened, and he looked at the timestamp on the message.  Len had sent this just a few minutes ago.  If he replied quickly, there was a chance he could talk to Len a bit before he and Mick got back on the road.  “Sorry, I’ll just be a sec,” he said, pausing to look over at Caitlin.  “It’s Len – he and Mick are going to be out of town this week, and this is probably the last time he’ll have reception.” 

“Take all the time you need.”  Caitlin’s smile was a bit too knowing, and Barry blushed as he returned his attention to his phone. 

Shit, what should he say?  He didn’t want to come across as super needy, especially since he didn’t want to bother Len on vacation – and if Len was driving, he wouldn’t have time for a long conversation anyway.  On the other hand, Barry had promised Len that he’d send along tips if he had suggestions about ways that Len could practice manipulating his powers.  Between Len’s request for ideas and Cisco’s request for information, it would be a good idea if Barry at least mentioned the possibility of Len figuring out how to influence the temperature of his own ice. 

He sent the texts, making sure to add in a mention of the Reverse-Flash at the end of the message.  Barry felt a bit guilty about mentioning the yellow speedster when Len was leaving to go on a relaxing vacation, but the last thing he wanted was for Len to wonder why Barry was asking about the temperature of his ice.  Cisco needed the information for his cold gun, but there was no way to explain that to Len without getting into a _very_ long and messy conversation, one that the two of them absolutely could not have over text. 

That would have to wait for when Len got back.  In the meantime, Barry would just have to keep his chin up and figure out what to say.  He was nervous at the prospect, because the possibility that Len could be angry – furious, even – with him was very real. 

At the same time, once everything was out in the open, maybe he and Len could actually move forward with something.  Whether it was the type of _something_ Barry was hoping for remained to be seen, but if he wanted to clear the air between them, it was a risk Barry would have to take. 

* * *

Patronizing a coffee shop that wasn’t Jitters felt like a violation of the natural order, but Barry knew perfectly well that it was a necessity.  Jitters was too close to the CCPD for comfort, and there was always a chance that someone there might recognize Bette.  The further off the beaten path they were, the better. 

Bette was the one who’d suggested Common Ground as their meeting location.  It was close to the more industrial areas of Central City, and from what Barry could tell as he entered the venue, the clientele reflected that.  Most of the patrons looked like blue-collar workers on their way to work, talking to friends while they drank or ate one of the bagels sitting in the counter display. 

Barry forced his gaze away from the bagels and looked around the coffee shop for Bette, breathing a sigh of relief when he spotted her sitting at a table in the corner.  He felt conspicuous and out of place in his red sweater and Converses, but a bit of discomfort was a small price to pay for anonymity.  It was definitely worth it to see Bette more visibly at ease. 

He approached her table and greeted her with a wave.  “Hey,” he said, suddenly wondering if she was expecting him to call her by her real name or by her new alias.  He’d have to ask later. 

Bette looked up from her phone with a smile.  “Barry, hi.  Thanks for meeting me,” she said.  “Should we get drinks?”

Barry glanced at the line – it was a few people long, but it was nothing compared to the morning rush at Jitters.  At this time of day, it was probably the best they could do.  “Sure.  Do you think someone will take the table if we leave it?” 

“I’ll leave my coat,” Bette said.  She shrugged out of the black parka she was wearing, draping it over the back of her seat.  Barry eyed it enviously – it looked _really warm._ He needed to invest in some better winter clothing, or get Cisco to weave therma-threading into every garment he owned. 

Once they both had their drinks – a latte for Bette and a massive mocha for Barry – they slid back into their seats.  “So how are things?” Barry asked now that they weren’t standing in the middle of the floor.  He wrapped his hands around his cup in an effort to warm his fingers.  “Still apartment-hunting?” 

Bette nodded.  “I’ve narrowed your list down to a few favorite places, but I’ve mostly been job-hunting since we last saw each other.  I found something at a property manager’s office – the pay isn’t fantastic, but it’s enough to make ends meet and it comes with benefits.” 

Barry grinned.  “That’s awesome!  Does it have decent hours?” 

“It’s a standard nine-to-five,” Bette said, echoing Barry’s smile.  “It won’t be a ton of fun, but it’ll pay the bills.  The company owner hires a lot of vets, and he was willing to give me a bit of a break on rent if I signed a lease at one of his properties.” 

Barry nodded slowly.  “As long as there’s stuff in the lease contract that would protect you from conflicts of interest, that’s a pretty good deal.  But I’m really curious – how were you able to claim veteran status if you’re applying for jobs as Jane Conway?” he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper. 

Bette leaned closer to him.  “My new identity has most of that covered.  I told you, it’s solid – I have a service record, credit score, employment history, the works.” 

Barry whistled.  “Damn.  How did you get ahold of a fake that thorough?  You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” he added hastily. 

Fortunately, Bette didn’t seem to care that Barry was being nosy.  “Someone I met online gave me the name of the person I used,” she said.  “I did a little digging, and once she turned up clean I contacted her.  Apparently I’m not the first metahuman looking for a new identity who’s been pointed in her direction.” 

Barry grimaced.  On the one hand, it was a bit worrying to hear that there was such a high-caliber forger setting up shop in Central City.  Still, he could hardly begrudge scared metas the opportunity to start over, as long as they weren’t hurting anyone.  “I’m glad you found the help you needed to go straight,” he said, and Bette’s lips twitched briefly.  “I won’t ask for a name, but – is there a big metahuman community?  Online, I mean.” 

Bette nodded.  “It took me a while to find it, but it’s there if you know where to look.  There are a few forums and social boards for metahumans.  People mostly talk about how they’ve learned to manage their powers and give each other tips, but there’s social forums too.  I’ve made a few friends on those boards.  It’s part of why I wanted to move back to Central – some of us have talked about meeting in person, and I was the only meta who’d moved out of the city.” 

Barry sipped his drink, not bothering to conceal his shock.  He’d had no idea there was an underground metahuman community – but in hindsight, of course he hadn’t known.  Most of Central’s metas had been forced to get by on their own while they acclimatized to their powers and their new situations, but everything Barry had ever needed had been spoon-fed to him by STAR Labs.  He’d never been isolated and desperate for support, so he’d never gone looking for it – but it would have been nice, to be able to talk about his experiences with people who’d understand. 

“You’d have the option of staying anonymous, if you ever wanted to use the boards,” Bette continued.  Barry looked up from his drink and saw her watching him with a knowing expression.  “Not everyone on the forums shares personal information.  Some of us don’t even describe our powers.” 

Barry sighed ruefully.  “I don’t know how you do it, but you’re good at reading my mind.  I might check them out if I have a free afternoon.” 

Bette nodded, seeming satisfied.  “There’s one thing I did want to ask you about, though.  What’s your housing situation right now?  You mentioned something about having a housemate, but a lot of leases are up at the beginning of the New Year.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “I’ve been staying with a friend whose fiancé was missing,” he said slowly, “but he’s been found.  With luck he’ll be able to move back home soon, but that leaves me up in the air.  I was about to start looking at places.”  Bette took a sip of her coffee, but the pleased gleam in her eyes was still clearly visible.  “Are you – holy shit, are you thinking we could be _roommates?_ ” 

“It had crossed my mind,” Bette said, setting her coffee back on the table.  “You’ve looked at all the same apartments I have, and I’d rather live with someone I know than a stranger.” 

“Plus we both know each other’s secret identities,” Barry said slowly.  He hadn’t actually thought much about the possibility of living with Bette beyond using it as a cover story for his friends at STAR Labs, but it wasn’t a bad idea.  “Which apartments are on your shortlist?” 

Bette pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the table.  “These are my top five,” she said.  “They’re all on major bus lines and are less than fifteen minutes from my new job.  If we split utilities between us, we’d be looking at about eight hundred a month each, give or take.” 

Barry nodded.  “That’s not awful – I could definitely make that work.  And commute’s not an issue for me.”  He read over the list, noting that all of the places on Bette’s list were apartments he’d liked as well.  “I actually think this could work.  What’s your stance on music in the apartment?” he said, putting the paper down and meeting Bette’s eyes. 

“I like quiet after ten, but before then anything’s fair game,” she said.  “Stance on pets?”

Barry grinned as he relaxed into the game of twenty questions.  “I like them, but my hours are too weird to have one of my own.  I’d be fine with it if you wanted to get a cat or something.  Um… friends over?”

“Caitlin and Cisco would be tricky since they know who I am,” Bette said with a grimace.  “I’d prefer it if STAR Labs didn’t know where I lived, but if you want them to come over I’ll make other plans.”  Barry nodded – Bette had a right to privacy.  “Other friends are fine.  What about significant others?”

Barry bit his lip.  “That might be difficult.  I’m not dating anyone right now, but I have my eye on somebody – and he works for the police.  Is that going to be a deal-breaker?” he said nervously. 

Bette frowned unhappily, but shook her head.  “I’m not going to call it just because of who you want to be dating.  If it gets to be an issue, I’ll extend the Cisco and Caitlin clause to cover him.  If we aren’t in the apartment at the same time, he won’t be able to recognize me.” 

“Okay.”  Barry breathed a sigh of relief.  “I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t come to that, though.  We aren’t at that point – we’ve got to have a long talk or three before we start anything serious, but if we do start going to each other’s’ places I’ll spend more time at his than he will at ours.  I don’t want you to feel like you aren’t welcome in your own home.” 

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that, but I’m glad,” Bette said, a small smile returning to her face.  “And I’m serious – good luck with that.  I’m in a similar spot with someone right now.  We’ve been talking on the metahuman boards, but I’ve never met her in person.  We’re going to try and set something up soon, though.”  A hint of a blush rose on her cheeks.  “Also, for the record, I’m a lesbian, if it matters.” 

Barry nodded.  “It doesn’t – but since we’re sharing, I’m bi.  I guess I did sort of think you liked men, since you had Cameron Scott as your emergency contact, so sorry about that.” 

“You aren’t completely wrong,” Bette said, smirking.  “We did deliberately try to cultivate that impression.  Cameron and I are old friends from college.  We were in the ROTC together – he joined the military to help pay for school.  His parents cut him off after he came out,” she explained, and Barry winced.  “He listed me as his next of kin in case anything happened to him while he was overseas.  Last I heard, he’s still in Afghanistan.” 

“That… really sucks,” Barry said.  “When was the last time you heard from him?” 

“A week or two before my accident,” Bette sighed.  “I’ve thought about trying to get back in contact, but it’s not safe with Eiling still out there looking for me.  He would have been notified that I’d been sent home for medical treatment, since I had him on my list of people to contact, but that all happened over a year ago.” 

Barry grimaced.  Intellectually he knew that it had been just over a year since the particle accelerator explosion, but he’d spent nine months of that time in a coma, and there were still times when he forgot.  Plenty of Central’s residents had been living with this new reality for far longer than he had – including the people who’d been thrown most off-kilter by the changes.  “Could you get in contact with him as Jane Conway?” he asked, feeling a sympathetic pang at the idea of not being able to tell his closest friend that he was alive.  He’d been in a coma, but at least Iris had been able to visit him at STAR Labs.  Cameron Scott didn’t have that luxury. 

“He did two consecutive tours and stayed in Europe between them, but his second tour is over in six months.  Once he’s back in the United States it’ll be easier for me to get in touch, and by then the worst of the manhunt for me should be over too.”  Bette fiddled with the hem of her glove.  “He’ll be angry with me for waiting so long, but I don’t need to drag him into trouble with me.  Eiling might end up using him as a target.” 

Barry shuddered at the idea – now that he thought about it, that was exactly the sort of thing that Eiling would do.  “When Scott gets back, if there’s anything I can do to help you two get back in contact, just say the word,” Barry said, making sure he was looking directly into Bette’s eyes when he spoke.  “I’m serious.  Even if it’s just running a note by his house, I’ll do it.” 

Bette’s answering smile was less strained than her previous ones had been.  “You’re a good friend, Barry.  I don’t normally decide to live with people quite this quickly, but I think it’ll work out.” 

“So do I,” Barry said frankly.  He’d learned to listen to his intuition when he found himself rushing into things, even if his instinct for danger could have an overactive imagination at times.  With Bette, his warning bells were silent.  There was something about the directness of her words and actions that was comforting.  Even if he hadn’t agreed with all of the choices she’d made in the past, Bette had never lied to Barry about who she was or what she wanted. 

They went their separate ways not long after that – Bette had paperwork to fill out for her new job, and Barry had to get to the CCPD in time for his morning shift.  They’d managed to narrow down Bette’s list of potential apartments to two, and with a bit of luck both of them were confident that they would be able to visit the places and decide on one before the end of the day tomorrow. 

It made Barry’s head spin, but in a good way.  He could be living somewhere completely different by the end of the week – and with Bette sans Souci as a roommate, no less. 

Barry’s good mood lasted until he got to work.  He was expecting the easy atmosphere of the station before lunch, but the rapid bustle of officers could only mean one thing – there was a case.  “What happened?” Barry said, making a beeline for Eddie.  “Is it a robbery?”  If he could get the location and some details about the scene, he could duck out of the CCPD and grab his suit in time to contribute something useful as the Flash. 

“Not as far as we know.  There’s been no reports of anything being taken, just property damage,” Eddie said.  Barry waited for him to continue, and Eddie blinked.  “Right, you weren’t on shift for the briefing – apparently Harrison Wells’ house was attacked last night.” 

The blood in Barry’s veins turned to ice.  Dr. Wells had been _attacked?_  “Why wasn’t I called?” Barry demanded, worry making his words come out sharper than he’d intended.  “I would have come in earlier if I’d known there was a case.” 

“I’m sorry, Barr, I didn’t think,” Eddie said, looking dismayed at his outburst.  “Lisa was on shift, and I didn’t think about the fact that it might be good to have two CSIs on this one.  It’s a weird case.” 

Barry shook himself.  Eddie didn’t know he was the Flash, and he definitely didn’t know that Barry had any sort of personal connection to Dr. Wells.  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry – I shouldn’t have snapped at you for doing your job,” he said, and was relieved to see the tension slide out of Eddie’s shoulders.  “Has anyone actually been to the scene yet?” 

“A couple of detectives went out there half an hour ago, but we haven’t had forensics in there yet,” said Joe, emerging from his office to stand at Eddie’s shoulder.  “Doctor Wells hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information either.” 

Barry frowned – that didn’t make any sense.  Why would Dr. Wells keep information from the police when he’d been attacked in his own home last night?  If anything he should have been telling the CCPD everything he could.  “Can I go over with the next team?” he asked.  Maybe Dr. Wells would open up a bit if Barry was one of the people working the scene. 

Eddie nodded.  “Your timing was perfect, actually.  Joe and I were about to head over there, so you can ride with us.” 

Now Barry felt even guiltier about snapping at Eddie.  A repeat apology wouldn’t do any good, since Eddie would shrug it off as unnecessary.  He’d have to settle for being extra nice while they were working together. 

The ride to Dr. Wells’ house was a lot longer and more convoluted than Barry expected.  Joe drove them to a gated subdivision on the edge of the city, in a location that Barry estimated was a good half-hour’s drive from STAR Labs.  His brow furrowed.  With the amount of time Dr. Wells spent at STAR Labs, he would have thought that the physicist would have chosen a house that was closer to the waterfront.  He wondered how much of his time Dr. Wells spent commuting to and from work every day.

When he saw the house itself, Barry had to quickly winch his mouth shut in order to keep from gawking.  This wasn’t just some luxury bachelor pad on the edge of town – Harrison Wells lived in a fucking _mansion._

The outside of the house looked like something out of an HGTV episode, all stone and glass.  Barry noticed the accessibility ramps placed in strategic locations throughout the landscaping, integrated into the house and driveway smoothly enough that they looked like they’d always been there.  The inside of the house had the same sleek, brushed-chrome and glass sensibilities as STAR Labs, although there were touches like the white concrete columns that contrasted wildly with the rest of the décor.  

There was a part of Barry that wasn’t entirely convinced the house was real – it looked like something out of a bizarre modern art catalog, not a place that someone would actually live. But regardless of what Barry thought of Dr. Wells’ interior decorating, the truth of it was that the building was so odd-looking that Barry was willing to bet money Dr. Wells had designed the house himself.  If a man’s home was his castle, what did Dr. Wells do alone at night in an inner sanctum like this?

When Barry stepped into the living room, he immediately caught sight of the reason the police had been called.  The room’s ceiling was made up of large rectangular panels of glass, like a greenhouse or a solarium, and several of those panels had been completely shattered by an impact of some sort.  The floor was covered in glittering shards, all pulverized to a degree that Barry found alarming.  That would definitely bear some examining, preferably when all of the detectives were out of the room and he could use his speed.

Dr. Wells was there in the middle of it all – and with a jolt, Barry realized that Caitlin and Cisco were both among the people surrounding Dr. Wells. 

He gritted his teeth and pushed his way through the crowd toward them.  “Okay, I’m glad we’re all here, but I really wish someone had called me.” 

“Sorry, dude,” Cisco said, grimacing.  “We just got here – Dr. Wells doesn’t even want the three of us here, much less the police.”

“Plus I reminded them that you were meeting a potential housemate today,” Caitlin chimed in.  “How did that go?” 

Barry sighed.  “It went fine.  Now, _you –”_ he looked accusingly at Dr. Wells – “are going to explain to me why you were _attacked in your own home_ and don’t want help from the police, or from any of us.” 

Dr. Wells tilted his head and looked up at Barry, his expression amused.  “I do always enjoy your zeal, Barry,” he said gently.  “However, this is perhaps not the time or place for you to lecture me on my independent streak.”  He nodded his head in the direction of Joe and Eddie, who were examining the shattered window. 

Barry blushed.  “Right,” he said, stepping away from Dr. Wells.  Joe might be aware that he and Dr. Wells had a pre-existing relationship, but most of the other personnel from the CCPD would have no way of knowing that. 

Turning away from the STAR Labs trio, Barry moved toward the fallen window himself.  Gingerly, he picked up one of the larger pieces of glass.  If he could just figure out what it was that was bothering him about it… “Joe,” he said, turning to the man with the faintest hint of an apology on his face.  “I think I left some of my stuff in the car.  Could you or Eddie grab it for me?” 

As Barry expected, Eddie perked up immediately at the mention of something to do.  “I’ve got it!” he said. 

Barry glanced around to make sure the coast was clear, then sped over to the door where he’d dropped his bag, deposited it next to the police cruiser they’d driven here, and returned.  Dr. Wells narrowed his eyes, but Barry shrugged.  He’d already been a dick to Eddie once today – if he was going to send him back to the car for something as a means of distracting him, he was definitely going to make sure there was something there for him to find. 

In the meantime, Barry was now surrounded by people who already knew about his secret identity – which meant he could use his speed on the investigation. 

Praying that his standard-issue gloves would stand up to the work he was about to do, Barry blurred into action, piecing together the fragments of the broken glass pane until it resembled the coherent shape it used to be.  “That’s weird,” he said, frowning, as he stepped back to look at his work.  “There’s no point of impact.  Whatever caused this window to break, it didn’t hit the glass in a specific place – it’s like the window just shattered itself.”  He glanced behind him to see whether or not his audience was following along, only to realize that Joe was openly gaping at him.  “Have you not – seen me use my speed before?”

“No,” Joe said, still looking stunned.  He shook his head briefly as if to clear it.  “I knew what you could do, but it’s different seeing it with your own eyes.  Barr, you put that window back together in less than a minute.  Your powers are incredible.” 

A grin spread slowly across Barry’s face at Joe’s praise.  He’d mostly gotten used to his powers, but it was times like these, when he got to help someone or show someone something new, that he remembered how _neat_ they could be.  “Thanks.” 

“While this is all very touching, shouldn’t you be dissembling that window before Detective Thawne returns?” Dr. Wells pointed out mildly. 

Barry blanched – if Eddie walked in and saw a fully-assembled window laying on the ground, he was bound to have some questions.  “Right,” he said, hastily jostling the pieces back into disarray.  “But anyway, like I was saying – whatever broke this window, it completely pulverized the glass.  This wasn’t some punk kid with a rock – this was a sophisticated attack, using either metahuman powers or some kind of technology.” 

“My guess would be technology,” Dr. Wells said.  “The culprit has always had both a flair for the dramatic and a knack for working with sonics.” 

“The culprit – you mean you already know who did this?”  Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Why haven’t you told the police?” 

“Because I would prefer to handle this in-house,” Dr. Wells said.  He glanced around Barry’s shoulder, sending Joe a pointed look.  “If you three don’t mind, I’d like to confer with you privately.” 

Barry followed Dr. Wells as he wheeled away from the crime scene and into a more secluded corner of the house.  Surreptitious glances at Caitlin and Cisco confirmed that they looked as confused as he did, but they also looked a lot more nervous. 

That didn’t bode well. 

“Doctor Wells, what’s going on?” Cisco said as soon as they were out of earshot. 

Their mentor took a deep breath.  “Soon after my return from STAR Labs last night, I received a call on my personal phone,” he said.  “I answered the call, and following a brief exchange, the roof of my house was shattered with a sonic device.  I was unharmed, but I believe my attacker intended to kill me.” 

“Your attacker,” Barry said slowly.  He looked from Dr. Wells’ resigned expression to Cisco and Caitlin’s frightened faces.  “This person attempted to kill you, but you already know who they are?” 

“I’m absolutely certain.”  Dr. Wells pushed his glasses up his nose.  “Hartley Rathaway – the prodigal son.  It seems that he’s finally returned.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! As my beta pointed out to me, this was a breather chapter in a lot of ways - but Hartley's coming! I'm really excited to finally be bringing him into the story. 
> 
> I'll be replying to comments tonight in between adding layers of spray paint to my cold gun; the base finally came in the mail yesterday, which is my own fault because I waited so long to order it. So I get to make a cosplay prop in a night! Don't be like me. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always!


	32. Crown Jewel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well at long last I'm back with an update! I wish this chapter hadn't taken so long, but January was a really rough month for me - I had a lot of things go sideways and have felt like I've been scrambling to keep up. The new year definitely threw me some curveballs, but when I had the time and energy to write, working on this fic made me feel better the way it always does. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter! Seeing people excited for Hartley definitely helped me keep my energy up while working on this chapter, and part of why it took so long was because I wanted to make sure I did him justice. I'll be getting to all of your comments this evening; I reread them multiple times when I was having off days, so I want to give the replies the attention they deserve. 
> 
> Without further ado, on to the chapter! I hope you enjoy the update.

Once Eddie returned carrying Barry’s equipment, Barry knew his window of opportunity had closed for the time being.  As much as Barry wanted to press Dr. Wells for additional details about Hartley, his mentor’s warning to downplay their relationship in public was still fresh enough in his mind that he was reluctant to push further.  Leaving Cisco and Caitlin with Dr. Wells, Barry re-joined his coworkers and continued with the investigation.

It took a long time for Dr. Wells to convince the detectives that he wasn’t interested in pressing charges, and it took even longer for him to clear all of the CCPD employees out of his house.  That didn’t mean that Barry was free to run straight to STAR Labs, no matter how much he wanted answers – he was still on shift, and as the CSI at the scene, he had work to do.  Dr. Wells may not have wanted to send the CCPD after Hartley, but that didn’t mean the police weren’t going to pursue an investigation. 

Even though he knew it would frustrate his mentor, Barry found himself agreeing with his coworkers on this one.  Whether Dr. Wells took Hartley’s threat seriously or not, he’d been attacked in his own home – and Barry hadn’t been present as the Flash to protect him.  Even if Cisco had finished making Dr. Wells’ emergency locator, there was still a chance that Barry might not have made it in time. 

A two-pronged attack would stand a better chance of catching Hartley, but that left Barry dealing with police business instead of talking to his team.  By the time his shift ended he was beginning to feel stir-crazy with impatience.

Unfortunately, even after Barry had joined Cisco, Caitlin, Martin, and Dr. Wells at STAR Labs, Dr. Wells didn’t seem eager to get to the point.  “As all of you know, Hartley Rathaway was once an employee of STAR Labs,” he said.  “He possesses one of the finest scientific and strategic minds I have ever encountered.  As such, regardless of his past association with this institution, it is vitally important that all of you remain on your guard.  Should he choose to make himself a nuisance, I have little doubt that Hartley could pose a significant threat to our operations.”

Barry glanced around the room – Cisco and Caitlin’s answering nods he was expecting, but Martin’s confirmation of understanding startled him for a moment until Barry remembered that Ronnie and Hartley had worked together.  Martin was probably drawing on Ronnie’s experience and memories to help him understand what was going on. 

As continually discomfiting as Martin and Ronnie’s situation was, a small impatient part of Barry couldn’t help but wish he shared a similar advantage.  “Okay, so Hartley is dangerous – but _why_ exactly is he so dangerous?  And why has he chosen now, of all times, to show up and try to kill you?” he said to Dr. Wells. 

Dr. Wells steepled his fingers and directed his attention toward Barry with a sigh.  “I confess that the timing of Hartley’s attack is something of a mystery to me, but his motive is not.  There have always been people who felt that I did not suffer enough from the fallout of the particle accelerator explosion.  Occasionally, someone will take direct action to even the scales of justice,” he said, his mouth twisting.  “That Hartley is among them should not have come as a surprise to me.  Of the people I have wronged, I have wronged him more than most.” 

“Because you fired him?” Barry said.  “I can see why he’d be pissed about that, but losing your job isn’t justification for killing someone.”

“Maybe there’s more to the story than revenge,” Caitlin said tentatively.  “Hartley was always unpleasant, but I have a hard time believing that he would have become a killer.”

“I don’t,” Cisco grumbled.  “He was always good at taking things to their logical extreme.” 

“He was a troubled young man,” Martin said, looking uncomfortable about the prospect of speaking up.  “Ronald’s memories indicate that Hartley was unbalanced.  He lacked a stable support system and continually struggled with feelings of inadequacy.” 

“Okay.”  Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  “That – sucks, yes, but it still doesn’t justify attempted murder.”

“It’s possible that Hartley might find the prospect of my imminent demise therapeutic,” Dr. Wells said with a wry smile. 

Barry huffed out an exasperated breath.  “That isn’t funny.  Can we talk about something constructive?” he said, looking toward Cisco and Caitlin.  “The roof of Doctor Wells’ house was shattered by some sort of blast, maybe a sonic attack.  Is it possible that Hartley could have metahuman abilities?” 

Cisco nodded.  “It’s possible.  Hartley was really good at sonics – a lot of his personal research projects involved manipulating the resonances and natural frequencies of different compounds and seeing how their properties changed in response.  He could have been doing experiments when the particle accelerator went off, but even if he didn’t get powers, he could definitely have built a sonic weapon of some sort.” 

“A prodigious skill set,” Martin said, nodding.  “A shame he decided to use his talents to nefarious ends, if he’s as gifted as Ronald’s memories suggest.” 

“I just wish we could figure out _why_ he was attacking right now, of all times,” Barry said, pursing his lips.  “It seems sort of – random.”  He turned to Dr. Wells.  “If he wanted revenge for being fired, he would have attacked you after you’d fired him.  If he wanted vengeance for something that happened when the particle accelerator blew, it doesn’t make sense for him to wait this long.  It’s been an entire year since the explosion – unless he was in a coma, he’s had plenty of time to get even.” 

Dr. Wells smiled.  “That’s the funny thing about hatred, Barry,” he said with a sigh.  “It isn’t like fear or anger – it doesn’t extinguish itself at the source.  It festers, and ultimately, if left unchecked, it corrupts everyone who comes into contact with it.  Hartley might not have started down this path intending to become a killer.  He may simply have been lost and confused, and sought an answer where he could find it – in one of the people who wronged him most.  If Hartley has decided that I’m to blame for everything that’s gone wrong in his life, it’s entirely possible that time will have deepened his wounds instead of healing them.” 

Shifting uncomfortably, Barry darted a glance sideways at Cisco and Caitlin.  They had moved closer to each other, and in the wake of Dr. Wells’ speech their expressions were slipping rapidly from _concerned_ into _upset._ “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together.  “As much as we could spend time going in circles about why Hartley decided to do what he did, I think we can _all_ agree that what matters most is keeping Doctor Wells safe.”  To his relief, he saw his teammates’ shoulders straighten slightly, and he redirected his attention to Dr. Wells.  “We need to prevent Hartley from coming after you again.  If he’s determined to kill you, he won’t stop, he’ll just try something else.  Does anyone have any idea where to find him?  A current job, an apartment, anything?”

Cisco and Caitlin glanced at each other.  “I have no idea,” Caitlin said.  “Hartley had a… _difficult_ personality.  Once he left STAR Labs, we didn’t hear anything from him.  Even if the particle accelerator explosion hadn’t absorbed our attention, we probably wouldn’t have made efforts to stay in touch.” 

Cisco nodded.  “What she said.  If I had to make a guess, I’d say Hartley probably works for one of the other labs in Central.  Mercury would have snapped him up, and it wouldn’t be the first time they took someone who used to work here.  Henry Hewitt ended up moving to one of their research and development labs, so maybe Hartley was able to use a personal connection.”

Barry grimaced.  Given the spectacular failure of his team’s past dealings with Mercury Labs, he was fairly sure they wouldn’t exactly be welcomed with open arms.  “Are you guys sure we need to go to Mercury about this?  Unless we know for sure that Hartley works there, it won’t help us much.  I can try and find out what the CCPD knows before we start digging into that angle.” 

Dr. Wells nodded.  “You’re quite right, Barry.  I’m also of the opinion that, since Hartley didn’t get what he wanted, he will be back before the dust has had time to settle.  We haven’t seen the last of him – and in all likelihood, he will come to us.” 

With _that_ ominous pronouncement, the team went their separate ways.  Cisco and Caitlin went to run down any leads they could about Mercury Labs’ recent hires, and Martin pulled Dr. Wells aside to continue working on the problem of splitting himself and Ronnie apart.  Barry’s lips twitched at the sight of Martin and Dr. Wells crowded around the whiteboards; he’d been on the receiving end of Martin’s spontaneous project-dumping to recognize the gesture for what it was.  Martin couldn’t help Dr. Wells directly, so he was turning himself into a distraction the best way he knew how – with science. 

As for Barry himself, he turned around and headed back to the CCPD.  Hopefully nobody would give him too much grief about working an unscheduled shift in the middle of the day, but at least what he was about to do would probably be a genuine help to the Rathaway investigation. 

Dr. Wells could complain all he liked about the CCPD being involved in the investigation at his house, but the truth of the matter was that a police presence had opened useful avenues for Barry to exploit.  Since Hartley was the subject of an active investigation, using the CCPD’s databases to look up his personal information was legal.  It would probably be expected of Barry at some point, since he’d been the CSI at the scene. 

Technically, Barry could have done all this from STAR Labs – it might actually have been easier than relying on the CCPD’s databases.  On the other hand, he also would have had Dr. Wells looking over his shoulder, probably making some sort of grim pronouncement about how their days were numbered and he was a dead man walking, which was _really_ not good for morale.  Hartley’s motive wasn’t the most important thing about this case, but Barry still wanted to know why he was trying to kill Dr. Wells, and why he was trying to do it now.  Saying as much around the people at STAR Labs hadn’t gotten him much of anywhere, so Barry would do his investigating at the CCPD. 

He managed to enter his lab upstairs without being noticed – although, with Len out of the city, Barry supposed there wasn’t anyone at the CCPD who would notice unexplained changes in his schedule.  Barry’s mouth twisted unhappily as he sat at his desktop and keyed in his login information, but he pushed the gloomy thought aside.  Len hadn’t even been gone that long – if Barry was going to start getting maudlin, he had to wait at _least_ forty-eight hours if he was going to be able to entertain even the faintest delusions of self-respect. 

The database search was straightforward, at least when it came to the information that Barry wanted.  He was most interested in Hartley’s employment history – if Caitlin and Cisco were going to be digging into Mercury Labs, it would be important to find out whether or not Hartley actually worked there.  Other pieces of information, like Hartley’s address and the plates of any vehicles he owned, could come in handy but would probably be more useful to the police than they would be to STAR Labs.  Barry included them in his search anyway, since he was doing his best to make this look like a routine inquiry. 

But when Barry began reading over the results of his search, he frowned.  Hartley’s employment history was a _mess._ The CCPD only had access to the past two years of records – any more than that and Barry would have to submit some extra paperwork – but even the two years that he could see didn’t look anything like what Barry had expected.  Hartley’s termination from STAR Labs was recorded toward the bottom of the file, just two months before the particle accelerator had exploded, but the more recent history was a jumble of part-time gigs and odd jobs.  Barry double- and triple-checked the list, but he couldn’t see a single physics-related position anywhere in Hartley’s history aside from STAR Labs. 

Barry sat back in his chair, stymied.  Hartley didn’t work at Mercury Labs – in fact, based on his employment history, he didn’t work in a STEM field at all.  He didn’t even have a current employer listed in the database.  Barry wondered how a physicist that even Dr. Wells had described as brilliant had ended up washing out so thoroughly.  He was sure there had to be a story there.  Maybe the story would explain why Hartley had decided to come after Dr. Wells, if Barry did enough digging. 

For now at least, Barry had to follow police procedure.  He finished running the check, printed a copy of his search results, and closed the database before leaving his lab and heading to the basement.  Len may not have been at the station, but there was still someone here whose brain he could pick. 

“Don’t tell me you’re turning into a workaholic too,” said Lisa when Barry walked into her lab.  “Your shift was supposed to be over an hour ago.  I just staged an intervention for Lenny, so don’t think I won’t kick you out of here in the name of work-life balance.”

“I’d like to see you try, but I take your point,” Barry said, his lips curving upward in a smirk to mirror Lisa’s.  He wondered what his boss would say if she knew that Barry’s idea of _work-life balance_ was a combination of Netflix and vigilantism, but now was definitely not the right time to mention that detail.  “This won’t take more than a couple of minutes.  I ran a background check on Hartley Rathaway, and some of this stuff isn’t adding up,” he said.  “Doctor Wells told me that he’s a former STAR Labs employee when I was at his house this morning, and his employment history confirms that, but I can’t figure out why Hartley hasn’t worked in physics since he got fired from STAR Labs.”

He held out the paperwork to Lisa, whose lips pursed as she thumbed through it.  “That is strange,” she said.  “Officially, I should tell you to drop it.  Doctor Wells didn’t press charges even though he was nearly murdered last night, which I disagree with, but regardless of my feelings there’s not much to work with right now.”

Barry nodded.  He knew as much – but he also knew better than to expect Lisa to do everything by the book at this point.  “And what about unofficially?” 

“Unofficially, I’m going to find a nice safe filing cabinet for that background check,” Lisa said.  “If Rathaway puts so much as a toe out of line, I’ll whip the paperwork out faster than the Flash rescuing a kitten from a tree.” 

The joke was so unexpected that Barry snorted.  “Do you actually think he does that?” he said, holding back a snicker with difficulty.  “Rescue kittens from trees, I mean.” 

Lisa shrugged.  “I wouldn’t put it past him, especially if he thought my brother was watching.  His heart seems like it’s in the right place, but the Flash is also a showoff.” 

“Sounds about right,” Barry said intelligently, feeling himself starting to turn red.  Damn, he hadn’t thought this through.  He hoped Lisa never got wind of the fact that the Flash had a thing for Len, or his secret identity would be blown immediately.    

On the bright side, if Lisa thought the Flash’s heart was in the right place, maybe she’d be more willing to accept his help than he thought. 

Barry’s phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts and preventing him from saying anything else stupid to Lisa.  He fished it out of his pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and hurriedly answered it.  “Hey Cisco, what’s up?”

“We found Hartley,” Cisco said without preamble.

“Uh.”  Barry hastily turned down the volume on his phone with a nervous glance at Lisa, who had perked up at the mention of Cisco’s name and was not-so-casually trying to listen.  Right, because apparently she and Cisco were a thing now.  “What’s going on?  I’m at the precinct right now,” he said, hoping Cisco would get the hint that he wasn’t alone in the room.

“Ooh, got it,” Cisco responded more quietly.  “There’s an ongoing attack at Rathaway Industries.  Someone’s blasting out windows, and I’d bet money that it’s Hartley.” 

“Got it.  I’ll be right there, sorry for making you wait.”  Barry hung up the phone and turned back to Lisa.  “I’ve gotta run – I was going to meet Cisco for a late lunch, but I lost track of time,” he said.  “Sorry about leaving so suddenly-”

Lisa waved a hand at him impatiently.  “Stop apologizing and go meet your friend.  You aren’t even supposed to be here.  And tell Cisco I said hi!” 

“I will!”  Barry turned tail and jogged up the stairs, walked out the front door of the precinct, and ducked behind the building out of sight before finally bolting back to STAR Labs to grab his suit.

Barry passed several emergency vehicles on his run to Rathaway Industries.  When he skidded to a stop in front of the building, his stomach sank when he saw that the police had already arrived.  Hartley’s attack had probably triggered the building’s alarms, or someone inside could have called the police before STAR Labs got the notification.  Fighting a potential metahuman while surrounded by a crowd of law enforcement would be much tougher than going one-on-one, especially in the middle of downtown.

Barry cast his gaze around the square in front of the building, looking for Hartley.  For now, the CCPD was hanging back.  If he could engage Hartley before the police officers did, there was a chance he could still end this quickly.

There was a blast of sound, and Barry whipped around as one of the massive glass windows shattered and crashed to the pavement.  He gritted his teeth – so Cisco had been right about the sonic attack.  He could imagine the same thing happening at Dr. Wells’ house, the exploding roof sending glass shards raining down into the open living room.  If Dr. Wells had been beneath the glass when it fell, he would have been cut to pieces.

He turned his head, and out of the corner of his eye he saw blue-uniformed CCPD officers running towards him.  “Stay back!” he said, holding out an arm to prevent the nearest officer from passing.  “I can get out of the way of that falling glass – you can’t.”

“Glad to hear we can count on you,” said a familiar voice, and Barry did a double-take – he’d stuck his arm out in front of _Eddie._ It was a good thing Barry had reflexively disguised his voice.  “This guy’s a metahuman?”

“He might be, but either way, I’ll be able to get up again a lot faster if he does hit me,” Barry said, standing on tiptoe and looking around for the source of the blast.  If he were closer he might be able to see ripples in the air from the concussive force, but even that seemed like a long shot.  

Although – Barry looked up at the building in time to see a ring of green light illuminate one of the windows before it too was blown out by a sonic blast.  He narrowed his eyes.  Hartley must be using some sort of targeting system to aim his sonic attacks, which suggested that he had at least one piece of tech on him.  If Barry could disable whatever he was using…

He zipped closer to the building, glass crunching beneath his feet, and was rewarded when the new angle showed him Hartley’s hiding place.  There was a man dressed in black hidden behind a pillar of the neighboring building – most of his face was concealed by a hood, but Barry was able to make out the shape of glasses that were vaguely familiar from the photo collage at Caitlin’s apartment.  And if the glasses hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, the glowing green gauntlets on the man’s hands definitely sealed the deal.

Hartley raised a hand, probably to fire off another blast, and Barry stepped out into the open.  “Hey!  Rathaway!”

Hartley paused, then turned and looked at Barry.  “It’s about time!” he shouted, and Barry’s eyes narrowed.  “Are you this late to all your crime scenes?  I expected better from the Scarlet Speedster.”

 _Ugh._ Barry could see what Cisco meant when he’d said that Hartley was caustic.  He ran closer, keeping a wary eye on Hartley’s gauntlets as he did so – if they could shatter glass from this distance, he did _not_ want to get with a blast.  “Why don’t you stop blowing out windows and turn yourself in to the police?” he said, ignoring the jibe.  “It’d go easier for you if you gave yourself up now.”

“And miss out on the opportunity to meet Harrison Wells’ newest pet project?” Hartley sneered, and Barry tensed.  “Hardly likely.  I wonder – can he hear me right now?  Does he trust you to play in the field alone or does he still feel the need to whisper in your ear?”

Barry felt his lip begin to curl, and suppressed a surge of irritation at how easily this guy was able to get under his skin.  “And what makes you think anyone’s listening?”

“Please.”  Hartley rolled his eyes.  “I can hear the radio waves emanating from your suit – about nineteen hundred megahertz?  There’s got to be someone on the other end.  I wonder, is Cisco listening?  Or maybe even Caitlin?  Say hi to them for me.”

Barry’s stomach gave a sickening lurch.  Whether he used weapons or powers to attack, the fact that he could hear radio waves meant that Hartley had to be a meta.  And his prior connection to STAR Labs had let him effortlessly name _exactly_ who was helping Barry out from the safety of the Cortex.

If Hartley’s game was to get into his head and psych him out, it was definitely working.

“You seem to know an awful lot about us,” he said.  “You gonna tell me why you tried to kill Harrison Wells last night?”

“Wouldn’t you just love to know,” Hartley said.  “But, as fun as it is to watch you chase your own tail, I didn’t come here to chitchat.”

He raised a hand, and Barry saw a glowing circle of green light appear in the center of his chest.

Barry dodged left, but he wasn’t fast enough to get completely out of range.  The sonic blast clipped his shoulder and sent him hurtling backward through a glass sculpture.  He hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but the tripolymer of his suit protected him from being speared by glass fragments, so he supposed there was at least a small silver lining to the situation.

“Comms are on the fritz from that blast,” Cisco said in Barry’s ear.  “Can he really hear our broadcasting frequency?”

“Yeah,” Barry managed to wheeze.  “He knows you guys are working with me – he named all three of you.”

Silence fell on the other end of the comms.  Barry rolled over and gritted his teeth when he saw Hartley advancing towards him with his gauntlets outstretched, picking his way through the fallen glass.  “Is that really the best you can do?” he said.  “If this is all you’re capable of, I don’t see why Harrison even bothers.”

Barry pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the way his legs wobbled beneath him – if Hartley’s attention was focused on him, he couldn’t blast the building or attack the police officers.  “For someone who tried to kill Wells yesterday, you seem pretty obsessed with him.  Haven’t you got anything better to do with your time than play supervillain?”

He expected Hartley to snark back at him, so when he raised his gauntlets Barry had just enough time to dodge out of the way.  The blasts missed him, but they slammed into one of the squad cars with sufficient force to flip it onto its side.  “Dammit,” Barry growled.  A double blast like that could kill the police officers, but Barry couldn’t afford to take hits that powerful, even if it was to protect someone else.  He put a hand to his ear.  “I have to disarm those gauntlets, guys – any ideas?”

“Hartley’s weapons must have a power source of some kind,” Dr. Wells said.  “All power sources have limits on their output at a given period of time.  It’s likely that after firing, Hartley has to allow his weapons to recharge.  You can use that to your advantage.”

“That’s a good idea – thanks,” Barry said, eyeing Hartley warily as he circled.  “I’ll try it.  But don’t say anything else – I have no idea if he can hear what we’re saying, but I don’t want to take the chance.”

“Is that Harrison on the other end of the line?” Hartley said, raising his gloves.  “You should tell him I’m looking forward to seeing him soon.”

Hartley fired several blasts from his gauntlets in rapid succession; Barry dodged them all, and breathed a sigh of relief when he looked over his shoulder and saw that the blasts had dissipated without causing any more damage.  His relief proved short-lived when an additional blast hit him in the chest and rolled him to the ground.

Barry picked himself up again quickly – this hit hadn’t hurt anywhere near as much as the previous one.  It seemed like Hartley’s gauntlets could either fire a single large attack or smaller sonic blasts in close succession.  Barry’s best bet at draining the weapons would probably be to provoke Hartley into launching another massive blast – but if he did that, how much collateral damage would happen to the surrounding buildings?  What if a police officer got caught in the crossfire?

Gritting his teeth, Barry abandoned that line of thinking.  He couldn’t risk such a high level of destruction, not if he wanted to actually help the CCPD contain the situation.

If Barry couldn’t deplete the weapons, he’d have to rely on his agility to let him get close enough.  A distraction was his best bet – and luckily for him, he had plenty of ammo to work with.  Barry scooped up several large chunks of glass off the ground and threw them at Hartley, forcing him to either sidestep the projectiles or destroy them with blasts from his gauntlets.

None of them came close to hitting Hartley, but they took his attention off of Barry, and that was all he needed.  He ran in close and managed to grab ahold of the gauntlets right after Hartley fired a blast, ripping them off of his hands and throwing them to the ground.  “It’s over, Rathaway,” Barry said, hoisting Hartley up by the collar of his shirt.  “You’re going to prison for a long time.”

“Prison?  I don’t think so,” Hartley scoffed, not seeming particularly worried by the fact that Barry was close to lifting him off the ground.  “You’re going to take me back to STAR Labs with you.”

Barry resisted the urge to give Hartley a shake.  There were still people watching.  “And why would I do that, considering you’ve hurt every single person in that building?  Why would I possibly want you _anywhere_ near my team?”

“Because you need me, Flash.”  Hartley’s eyes bored into his own; Barry searched them for any hint of dishonesty, and was thrown when all he saw was conviction.  “You see, I know Harrison Wells’ biggest secret.”

Ice flooded Barry’s veins, and from the smug smile that spread across Hartley’s face, the other man knew exactly what can of worms he’d just opened.

_Goddammit._

* * *

“Why is he here?” Cisco demanded, gesturing furiously to where Barry was standing with Hartley in the entrance to the Cortex.  “I could have gone my entire life without seeing his smug face again, and now he’s here instead of rotting in prison like he should be!”

“He knew your names,” Barry said, making sure he didn’t look at Dr. Wells when he spoke.  He had no idea if their mentor had heard Hartley’s comment over the comms, but he didn’t want to give away just how big an impact it had made on him.  “I didn’t think it was safe to risk sending him to Iron Heights, not until we talked about what we should do with him first.”

“Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look, Flash,” Hartley said, glancing over his shoulder at Barry.  “By the way, being scooped up and cuffed by a man clad in head-to-toe leather?” he added, jingling the handcuffs on his wrist.  “A longtime fantasy of mine, so thanks.”

Cisco threw a Twizzler at Hartley; it hit the side of his head, and Hartley whipped back around.  “Hey!  That’s my suit you’re fetishizing.  And you’re pretty smug considering you didn’t last ten seconds against the man wearing it.”

“Can we just stop?”  Caitlin hold out a placating hand to Cisco before turning to Hartley.  “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Hartley tilted his head toward her.  “Caitlin.  Sorry to make things messy for you – I know how much you like to keep things under wraps.  Never did get that wedding invite, by the way.”

Caitlin jerked back as if Hartley had slapped her, and Barry’s blood boiled.  Before he could shake Hartley like a rat until he apologized, Martin stepped out of the side room.  “Hartley.  I’d say the missed invite was accidental, but in your case I think a more _deliberate_ omission can be inferred.”

For a moment, Hartley’s smug expression was replaced by a look of blank shock.  It was quickly replaced by a smile that bordered on a grimace.  “Ronnie Raymond.  Although I can assume, based on the way you’re talking like a thesaurus, that you aren’t entirely… _yourself.”_

“Okay, that’s enough-” Cisco started toward Hartley, but a raised hand from Dr. Wells caused him to reluctantly subside.   

Barry looked around at his team in consternation, his initial flare of conviction rapidly fading.  Hartley had been here for less than five minutes and he was already having an effect on everybody in the room.  The only person who didn’t look riled was Dr. Wells, and even he was beginning to look like he was debating the merits of pinning Hartley to the wall like a particularly interesting butterfly specimen.

“Flash,” Dr. Wells eventually said, his stare sliding away from Hartley and onto Barry.  Barry tensed, but there was no anger in his mentor’s expression.  Instead his eyes were distant, almost cold, which didn’t bode well for the long term but at least lowered the possibility of an imminent explosion.  “Can you escort our visitor to the holding cell in the Pipeline?”

Barry tightened his grip on Hartley’s shoulder but didn’t move.  “We can’t keep him here indefinitely,” he protested.  “The police will be looking for him, and we can’t just hold him prisoner.”

Dr. Wells tilted his head.  “Then I admit, I’m not entirely sure what you intended to accomplish by bringing him here,” he said.  “Once Hartley is released to the authorities, he becomes a liability regardless of what assurances he gives us.”

“I’m not interested in breaking up your crime-fighting Scooby gang, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hartley snapped.  “I’m not even interested in killing you.  I just want you to _answer_ for what you’ve done, for once in your life.”

His voice was steady, but there was a faint tremor in his shoulders that gave Barry pause.

Hartley Rathaway may have demanded to be brought here, but he was _scared_ of Harrison Wells.

To Barry’s discomfort, Cisco insisted on accompanying Barry and Hartley to the Pipeline.  “You don’t have fingerprint access yet,” he said when Barry tried to protest.  “You’ll need me to open the cell.” 

“Interesting,” Hartley said, looking at Barry out of the corner of his eye.  “Doesn’t it bother you that they haven’t even seen fit to give you full access to the facility, Flash?  After all, you supposedly work here.” 

Barry’s jaw tightened, but he ignored the jab.  “Let’s back up a minute,” he said instead.  “When we were in the Cortex, you said something about Ronnie not acting like himself – what did you mean by that, exactly?” 

“You already know what I mean, since you’ve clearly managed to stabilize Ronnie Raymond and the professor in that body.”  Hartley jingled the chain of his handcuffs, seeming unconcerned by the way both Barry and Cisco were staring at him.  “I’m just surprised you managed to put the puzzle together on your own, Cisquito.” 

“It wasn’t me,” Cisco said shortly.  “The Flash was the one who figured out that the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. research was the key to helping Ronnie and Martin.” 

“Huh.”  Hartley looked at Barry again, his eyes assessing behind his glasses.  If Barry didn’t know better, he’d think Hartley actually looked impressed.  “Maybe you are more than just a pretty face.” 

Cisco’s eyes narrowed, but Barry shook his head and breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator fell silent. 

Hartley didn’t put up any resistance as Barry and Cisco led him into the particle accelerator.  “Repurposing the anti-proton cavities into confinement cells is clever.  Harrison’s idea, I’m sure?”

“The sensors are detecting foreign metallic objects in your ears,” Cisco said, acting as if Hartley hadn’t spoken.  “Whatever they are, hand ‘em over.” 

For the first time since Barry had brought him back to STAR Labs, Hartley actually looked alarmed.  “I can’t.  The particle accelerator explosion damaged my ears – without these implants, I’m in pain you can’t possibly imagine.  I’m _not_ giving them to you.” 

Barry managed to suppress a sympathetic wince.  Hartley’s hearing was superhumanly acute – it made sense that he’d have trouble screening for input when the world was constantly blasting sound in his ears at all times. 

“Alright, you can keep them,” Cisco said, holding up his hands in surrender.  “But if you use them for anything nefarious…”

 “Please.”  Hartley took a seat, leaning back against the wall and looking up at them.  “I’m where I want to be – why would I bother escaping?  Besides, you’ll have to let me out to use the bathroom eventually.”    

“Yeah, well, there’s cameras in here for stuff like that,” Cisco said, jabbing a thumb up toward the ceiling.  “Yell or wave your arms if you need anything, but if you try to escape I swear I _will_ leave a jar in the corner.  Later, Rathaway.” 

Cisco turned on his heel and walked out of the Pipeline.  Barry almost followed suit, but he found himself hesitating.  He turned back around and looked at Hartley, who was still lounging in his cell.  “Doctor Wells is probably going to want to talk to you at some point while you’re here,” he said, and Hartley’s gaze snapped up to meet his eyes warily.  “Are you… going to be okay if you’re down here with him by yourself?”

For a second, Hartley looked furious – but to Barry’s surprise, he didn’t start yelling.  Instead Hartley lifted his chin and looked at Barry imperiously, a feat that was somewhat impressive considering he was still wearing handcuffs.  “Are you really so much of a bleeding heart that you’re worrying about the feelings of someone who’s already tried to kill you?”

Barry shrugged.  “You aren’t the first person who’s tried to kill me, so fighting you really wasn’t anything special.  But I know Doctor Wells can get intense.”

“You have no idea.”  Hartley looked away from Barry, settling his gaze on the padded blue interior of his cell.  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” he said quietly.  I recognize it – because _I_ used to be the crown jewel in his little collection.  It doesn’t last.  And when he does finally turn on you, even you won’t be able to see it coming until it’s already too late.”

Barry stared at Hartley, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.  Obviously Hartley was trying to get under his skin – but everything he was saying?  It made a scary amount of sense.

But the last thing he wanted was for Hartley to see him wrong-footed and uncertain, so he bolted from the Pipeline without another word.

The elevator ride back to the Cortex helped to clear Barry’s head, but he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking when he stepped back into the room with Cisco by his side.  Caitlin and Dr. Wells were both wearing troubled expressions, but Dr. Wells was the only one who looked up when Barry entered the Cortex.  He must have seen something on Barry’s face, because he sighed and wheeled over to him.  “Barry, I’m sorry if my reaction to Hartley’s appearance seemed a bit – abrupt.  It wasn’t my intention to cause you any additional discomfort,” he said, meeting Barry’s eyes with a tired smile.  “I know you’re only trying to do what’s best for the team.”

Barry nodded, not quite trusting his voice to remain steady.  Now that he was back in the Cortex, Hartley’s words didn’t seem quite as ominous – Barry knew his team, and while Dr. Wells was far from perfect, he wasn’t as outright malicious as Hartley seemed to believe.  Maybe Hartley’s plan all along had been to try and turn Team Flash against each other and cause chaos as revenge for getting fired.  It was definitely an easier scheme to swallow than Hartley coming back to deliver some kind of botched warning message.

Still, when Dr. Wells left the Cortex to speak to Hartley on his own, Barry couldn’t help hovering anxiously around the monitor displaying the feed from the security cameras.  “What do you think they’re going to talk about?” he said to Cisco.  “And what do you think Hartley meant when he said he knew Wells’ secret?” 

“Beats me,” Cisco said, peering around Barry’s shoulder so he could see the screen.  “Doctor Wells has a lot of secrets, he’s a pretty private person.  Caitlin and I didn’t even know where he lived until this morning.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “But you’ve known Doctor Wells for years.” 

“He’s always liked to keep his work and personal lives separate,” Caitlin said, shrugging. 

Barry bit his lip.  Cisco and Caitlin didn’t seem bothered by their mentor’s distance, but Barry couldn’t help finding it a bit odd.  Their working relationship aside, Cisco and Caitlin had both stood by Doctor Wells even after the particle accelerator explosion, when the rest of the city turned its back.  They were part of a secret vigilante team together.  Surely that warranted at least one invitation to the man’s house.  Barry had invited them to _his_ childhood home for the holidays, even if Dr. Wells had declined to go.

When Dr. Wells wheeled into view of the Pipeline cameras, Barry forced himself to pay attention to what was happening in front of him instead of his puzzled frustration with Dr. Wells’ secretive lifestyle.  Maybe his conversation with Hartley would give Barry some additional clues about what exactly had happened between the two of them. 

If eavesdropping was the goal, it seemed he was destined to be disappointed.  When Dr. Wells started talking to Hartley, it wasn’t in English – the sound of the words was vaguely familiar, but Barry couldn’t place it.  “Guys, what language are they speaking?” 

“If I’d have to guess, probably Latin,” Cisco said.  “Doctor Wells and Hartley are both fluent, and they spoke it around the office a lot.  I think Hartley knows six languages.” 

Barry bit his lip.  “And here I am with no languages at all – I dropped Spanish after one semester so I could take home ec.” 

“Barry, you don’t need to compare yourself to Hartley,” Caitlin said, stepping up on Barry’s other side.  “We heard some of what he said to you during your fight at Rathaway Industries, and you have nothing to worry about.  You aren’t his replacement.” 

“Yeah, dude.  There’s no contest between you and Hartley at all,” Cisco said, clapping him on the back.  Barry’s lips twitched in spite of himself.  “And even if we were sitting around comparing the merits of Barry versus Hartley, you’d come out light-years ahead.  You’ve actually got a likeable personality.” 

That was enough to pull a chuckle out of Barry.  “Thanks, guys.”  He tugged Caitlin and Cisco slightly closer, until they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the monitor. 

“I must admit, I’m curious,” Dr. Wells said over the monitor, and Barry hastily re-focused his attention at the sudden switch to English.  “How did you put together that we were working with the Flash?” 

“I wrote a hexagonal algorithm tracking the Flash’s sightings and exit trajectories,” Hartley said.  “Every time he left the scene of a crime, he ran in this general direction.” 

“Shit,” Cisco whispered, and Barry nodded in agreement.  He hadn’t even considered the possibility that someone could trace his activity back to STAR Labs by tracking his movements – and anyone else could do the same thing.  He’d have to start taking alternate routes back to the building when he could, to throw people off the scent.

“An innovative solution,” Dr. Wells said, “and no less than I expected from someone as brilliant as you.” 

Hartley laughed.  “Please.  Don’t try to flatter me.  It’s not like I haven’t had plenty of time on my hands.”  

“Be that as it may, your recent… _actions_ have made it clear that you’re still troubled by our history,” Dr. Wells said.  “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you, Hartley… and any anguish you’ve been through as a result of my actions was never what I desired.” 

Silence fell, and in unison Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin leaned closer to the monitor. 

“Not bad, as far as heartfelt apologies go – especially for you,” Hartley said, and Barry’s shoulders tensed at the wobble in the other man’s voice.  “Except that wasn’t meant for my ears, was it?”  Hartley looked up directly at the camera, his face twisted with something like pain.  “That was for you, Flash.  It feels good to have him in your corner, doesn’t it?  Enjoy it while you can, because I can guarantee it won’t last.” 

Barry only noticed he’d started vibrating with tension when Cisco rested a hand on his back.  He took a deep breath and forced his muscles to relax.  “He keeps saying this stuff.  I don’t know if he’s trying to psych me out or what, but it won’t work.” 

Barry couldn’t _afford_ for it to work – his life was too tied up in STAR Labs and the people who worked here to ever have any hope of making a clean break, to say nothing of the fact that he was depending on Dr. Wells to help save his foster dad’s life.  He’d just resolved the Reverse-Flash crisis a week or so ago, and the cold panic he’d felt at the thought that his mother’s murderer had invaded his base of operations was still a fresh enough memory to make him sweat. 

“Then I’m sorry it’s come to this, Hartley,” Dr. Wells said.  “If you truly don’t intend to tell the police about us, we’ll make arrangements to transport you to the CCPD in the morning.” 

Hartley leaned forward in his cell, pressing one palm to the glass.  “You only wish you could make me disappear as easily as you do your other problems, but I’ve already told your pet that I know your deep dark secret, _Harrison._ Have fun letting him in on that one.” 

Dr. Wells’ elevator ride back to the Cortex only took a few minutes, but to Barry it felt like an eternity.  Cisco and Caitlin were both silent; Barry was tempted to ask them what they were thinking about, but he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer. 

When Dr. Wells finally wheeled into the Cortex, the somber expression on his face didn’t do anything to set Barry at ease.  “I’m assuming all of you were listening?”  Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin all nodded, and Dr. Wells’ mouth twisted sideways.  “Unfortunately, Hartley wasn’t lying.  I haven’t been completely honest with the three of you.” 

The bottom fell out of Barry’s stomach.  He hadn’t thought Hartley was a liar, but that didn’t mean he wanted Hartley to be _right._ “What haven’t you told us?” he said, his mouth dry. 

Dr. Wells took a deep breath.  “The day I set a launch date for the particle accelerator, Hartley came to me in private.  He warned me there was a chance that the particle accelerator could explode – not a one-hundred-percent certainty, but there was a risk.”  He adjusted his glasses on his face, pushing them further up his nose.  “I made the decision that the success of our enterprise, and the potential for what we could learn and achieve, was enough to justify that risk.  But I was wrong.” 

Barry was standing close enough to Cisco that he could feel the engineer start to tremble.  “Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “that everything that’s happened to this city, all the disasters – all of it could have been prevented?”

Dr. Wells nodded. 

When Cisco made a tiny, wounded noise and left the Cortex just shy of a run, Barry made no move to stop him.  He wasn’t sure he could have moved if he tried.  Everything was filtering through a haze of confusion and disbelief, like a penny fluttering down through water. 

Caitlin was the next person to react, her expression pinched.  “The next time you decide to risk the lives of everyone in this building, I expect a heads-up.” 

She left too, the clack of her shoes echoing down the hallway until it faded from earshot. 

Barry remained where he was, his fingers gripping the back of the chair next to him – if he wasn’t still wearing the Flash suit, he suspected his knuckles would be visibly white with the force of it. 

When he finally spoke, Barry’s voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else.  “Is that why you fired him?” he said softly.  “Hartley questioned you – and you fired him for that, instead of considering that your _brilliant physicist_ might have been onto something?” 

Dr. Wells grimaced.  “Barry, my reaction was foolish and shortsighted.  Hartley had threatened-”

“-to do what?” Barry interrupted.  “To tell everyone?  To let them know that the particle accelerator that you built in the middle of their city wasn’t as safe as everyone thought it was?” 

Dr. Wells’ silence was all the confirmation Barry needed. 

Barry shook his head. “How could you?  People _died_ that night – do you have any idea how many people are still struggling to cope with what happened to them because of your choices?  Caitlin and I could _still_ lose our families – some people lost _everything._ ” 

“And what can be repaired will be repaired,” Dr. Wells said.  “It can’t all be fixed, no matter how hard we try.  But not every change has been for the worse,” Dr. Wells continued, looking up at Barry.  “It by no means balances the scales, but Central City is a better place with you in it.” 

Barry shook his head, the lightning under his skin crackling white-hot.  “No.  Me being the Flash doesn’t balance the scales _at all._ The threats I help stop, the people I bring down – none of them would exist if you hadn’t given all of us powers in the first place!”  His voice rose to a shout, but for once he didn’t try to wrestle his anger back down.  “Did you know that Cisco still feels personally responsible for what happened that night?  He sits in the shell of the thing you _hired_ him to help create, and thinks about what he could have done to change things if he’d just noticed that something was wrong.  But when someone did notice, it changed _nothing._   You _fired_ Hartley because he spoke up!  Would you have done the same thing to Cisco?  To Caitlin?  What about to Ronnie?  Any of them could have been in that position, and you’d have thrown them out like trash instead of listening to the people who trusted you!” 

The silence in the Cortex echoed in the wake of Barry’s outburst.  Instead of firing back an angry retort, Dr. Wells removed his glasses and closed his eyes for a long moment before meeting Barry’s gaze.  “Barry, no matter how much I wish I could, I cannot change the past,” he sighed.  “What’s done can’t be undone.” 

“It can’t – but it can be fixed.  And you _will_ fix it.”  He looked straight into Dr. Wells’ eyes, willing himself not to flinch or show any sign of weakness.  “Prove to us all that we weren’t wrong to put your faith in you, or this deal we have, you and I?  It’s over.  I’ll figure out how to do this – _all_ of this,” he said, gesturing to the monitors, the empty mannequin, the gurney parked by the back wall, “– without you.” 

Dr. Wells’ head jerked back up as if Barry had slapped him, but Barry didn’t care.  He bolted from the Cortex, his stomach roiling with grief and nausea. 

He needed to get out of here, before he could do something he would really regret.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hartley's only been here a chapter and he's already stirring up trouble! I've written bits and pieces of the next chapter already, so I'm hoping it won't take me as long to write it. My life is still crazy though, so unfortunately I can't make guarantees. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always!


	33. Valor And Discretion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, everyone! It's that time again, I'm back with a chapter. This update started out frustrating to write, but once I got into the swing of things I had a lot of fun with it and I'm happy with how it turned out, even if it ended up longer than I was expecting. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left comments on the previous chapter. I've been excited to introduce Hartley for a long time, but I was worried about doing him justice, so I really appreciate the feedback on Chapter 32. It'll probably take me a day or two to reply to all the comments, but I'm looking forward to answering them all!

As tempted as Barry was to run screaming out of the city limits and into the wilderness, he knew better than to actually do it.  He’d nearly fainted from hypoglycemia the last time he’d gone for a long run, and Caitlin had told him to spend today resting. 

Fat lot of good that advice would do him now.  Hartley had derailed everything in more ways than one – Barry wasn’t sure _how_ he was supposed to rest and take it easy, not when his blood was boiling with anger and terror at the fact that he’d finally lost his temper with Dr. Wells. 

The last time he’d acted on a rush of rage and spoken his mind, Barry had been acting under Bivolo’s influence.  This time he had no such excuse to fall back on.  He remembered every word he’d said to Dr. Wells, the look of blank shock that had flickered over his face when Barry had threatened to leave for good. 

The previous time he’d swung at Wells and seen his words strike home, Barry had apologized for it.  This time, he had a sinking feeling he’d be doing no such thing. 

It took an effort of will for Barry to stop running and duck into an alley long enough to get his bearings.  The anger crackling under his skin hadn’t subsided, and it probably wouldn’t any time soon, but Barry needed to be smarter about it this time.  He couldn’t lash out at the people around him, but he also couldn’t bottle it up like he used to – if he did that, it was bound to explode out of him when he was under even more stress than he was right now.  He needed to go to ground and _think,_ somewhere it was quiet and he could wrestle back control of his headspace for long enough to come up with a plan. 

He definitely couldn’t stop to rest anywhere public, given his current outfit, which meant he needed to run by somewhere and grab a change of clothes.  Hopefully Caitlin hadn’t gone straight home from STAR Labs – Barry wasn’t fit to talk to anyone right now, much less have a conversation about the bomb that Dr. Wells had dropped in the middle of the Cortex. 

Barry kept his pace slow to conserve energy, and the lightning fought him every step of the way.  It was the wrong side of too much, and Barry wished he could open up the throttle and burn it away – but he couldn’t run the risk of losing control of his speed, not when he was barely in control of _himself._

His shaking hands fumbled with the key for several seconds before he was able to turn the latch, but once he got the door open he let out a relieved breath at the apartment’s dark interior.  No lights on meant there was nobody home – Caitlin always liked to leave the entryway light on when she was here by herself. 

Barry managed to keep his cool while he struggled to remove the Flash suit, mainly because Cisco was dealing with enough right now without Barry adding the burden of costume repairs to his list.  Still, it gave him no small amount of satisfaction to throw the tripolymer to the ground with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. 

Once he’d changed into a spare pair of sweats, Barry dropped onto Caitlin’s sofa and hugged his knees to his chest, taking a deep, shuddering breath and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. 

Barry wouldn’t trade his loved ones for the world, but there were some ways they made things harder.  When it had been him, Iris, and the Steins versus the world, it hadn’t mattered that other people’s pain cut Barry like a knife until he found a way to fix it.  When Barry’s circle had been small, he hadn’t been spread thin trying to protect them all – and he definitely hadn’t worried about protecting them from each other. 

Now Dr. Wells had hurt Caitlin and Cisco, had lied to all of them, and Barry was reeling – angry, yes, but it was the dull knife-edge of hurt underneath the rage that made the breath catch in his throat. 

Barry closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, doing his best to hold the threatening vice grip on his lungs at bay.  What made it worse was that the Dr. Wells Barry thought he knew would never have done something like this.  He was diligent and analytical, cautious to the point of aggravation, always ready with an unforeseen observation or hazard when Barry was in the field testing the limits of his powers.  The Harrison Wells Barry knew would have done his due diligence, not forged ahead with the particle accelerator regardless of the consequences. 

Barry wasn’t going to kid himself that he was special to Harrison Wells.  Threatening to leave the team wouldn’t do anything – if Dr. Wells was the type of man who disposed of people once they were no longer useful, he’d probably interpret Barry’s abrupt departure as a sign that Barry wasn’t willing to be controlled or influenced any longer.  It wasn’t like Barry could use himself as leverage to make Dr. Wells do what he wanted. 

He had a grim feeling that _nobody_ could make Dr. Wells do something he didn’t want to do.  Hartley had strongarmed Wells into coming clean to the team, but neither of them had brought the truth into the light for warm and fuzzy reasons.  They were playing their own game of chess, and if Hartley was right about anything, it was that Barry was a piece on the board and nothing more. 

He couldn’t protect Caitlin and Cisco from Dr. Wells if he couldn’t even protect himself. 

And maybe it was the bleeding heart buried inside him, but Barry didn’t want to give up on his mentor yet.  It had been an ugly truth, but Dr. Wells had still been correct when he said that nothing in the past could be undone.  It would have to be fixed in the present.  If Dr. Wells was sorry, had really changed, Barry was willing to let him prove it.  The problem was that he wasn’t sure _how_ Dr. Wells could make this right. 

Barry sighed and halfheartedly threw a pillow at the far wall, where it impacted and bounced harmlessly to the floor.  He could run himself in circles – figuratively and literally – for hours, and it still wouldn’t make any difference.  Whether Wells decided to apologize, kick Barry to the curb once and for all, or something in between, it was his move now.  Barry could either spin his wheels here, or he could try and do something that would make him feel better. 

Of the available coping strategies, Barry knew what he’d prefer to do – go for a nice long run.  But he wasn’t about to piss Caitlin off by fainting when she’d ordered him to rest, especially since he didn’t have many energy bars left at Caitlin’s apartment and he was understandably wary about going back to STAR Labs to get more. 

Barry sat back on the sofa and forced himself to consider his other choices.  Talking things out with Dr. Wells and his team wasn’t an option yet.  Neither was running, or punching something in order to vent his anger.  Barry abruptly remembered the time Iris had been abducted, when Len had held the punching bag for him at the station and reassured him that it was okay to let go and _feel_ the things that hurt him, instead of bottling it all up. 

Abruptly, Barry wished he hadn’t thrown the pillow.  If he got up to retrieve it, he’d have to acknowledge that he badly wanted to hug something, preferably a living person.  Instead he wrapped his arms back around his knees and exhaled shakily. 

Calling Len was out of the question.  Barry had copied down the emergency number to the cabin’s landline – but it wasn’t a real emergency.  Barry wasn’t going to interrupt Len’s badly-needed time away, he _wasn’t._ But he could call Iris. 

Barry fished his phone out of the pocket in his suit, went into his favorites, and dialed his best friend. 

Iris answered on the third ring.  “Hey, Barr,” she said.  “Give me a second, I’m still at work.” 

Barry clapped a hand to his mouth – he’d completely forgotten that Iris would probably still be at Picture News.  “Oh god, I’m so sorry.  Are you busy?  I can call you back later.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll just step into the breakroom,” Iris said.  “I’m due for a sit-down – my supervisor has had me on the go for hours.”  Barry heard the sound of a door clicking shut, then Iris continued.  “Alright, I’m good now.  What’s up?” 

Barry bit his lip.  “I’m having a shit day, but I don’t want to dump on you while you’re at work.  I really can call you back later.” 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with what happened at Rathaway Industries, does it?” Iris said, lowering her voice.  “Because Eddie called me an hour ago complaining that the Flash abducted Hartley Rathaway from a crime scene, and he hasn’t been seen since.” 

 _Shit._ Barry dragged a hand over his face.  Of course it would look bad that he’d kept Hartley from being arrested – he’d been so preoccupied with preventing the threat to his team that he hadn’t considered how the scenario would look to the CCPD.  With his luck, they’d probably think he and Hartley were in cahoots.  “If it’s any consolation, I know where he is and he’s not leaving anytime soon.  We’re planning to turn him over to the CCPD in the morning.” 

“I figured you’d know something.  Why’d you take him?” 

Barry bit his lip.  “He said he knew something about Wells – that Wells was keeping secrets.  It turned out he wasn’t lying.”  Barry gave Iris the abbreviated version of how Hartley had been fired because he’d confronted Dr. Wells about the particle accelerator. 

For a long minute, Iris was silent on the other end of the line.  “Barry, that’s… horrible,” she said.  “People _died_ that night.  _You_ almost died.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “I – had actually almost forgotten about that,” he said, suddenly feeling ill.  Getting his powers had nearly killed him, and STAR Labs’ intervention hadn’t been enough to keep him from slipping into a nine-month coma that Iris had been an ever-present witness for.  “I was mostly thinking about the city.  Everything changed that night, and it could have all been prevented.” 

“Do you have any proof, other than what Doctor Wells told you?” Iris said.  “I know you don’t want STAR Labs coming under extra scrutiny, but this is front-page news.  The public deserves to know the truth about that night.” 

Barry rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.  “You’re right, but I don’t have any way to prove it other than word of mouth.  Hartley isn’t a reputable source, even though he’s telling the truth – people could say he was doing it for the attention, or to get back at Doctor Wells, so it would have to come from Team Flash.  It’d be our word against Doctor Wells’, assuming Caitlin and Cisco are comfortable saying anything.”

“That’s a good point,” Iris said.  “Especially if Wells already has a history of retaliatory firings… are you worried about what he might do next?”

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to think,” Barry admitted, fiddling with the hem of a blanket.  “Wells apologized for lying, and it seems like he knows he was in the wrong, but this isn’t the sort of thing that just goes away because one person tells the other they’re sorry.  He did _real damage,_ and he hasn’t done nearly enough to fix it.” 

“I’m sorry, Barr,” Iris sighed.  “I know you really looked up to him.” 

Barry snagged a tissue from the box on Caitlin’s coffee table.  He could already feel tears beginning to prickle at the corners of his eyes as his anger ebbed, allowing the hurt to surface – if he started to actively dwell on Dr. Wells’ broken pedestal, he’d probably start crying, which he wasn’t in the mood for.  “That’s not the part that scares me, though,” he said to Iris.  “I told him that if he didn’t find a way to prove all three of us hadn’t been wrong to follow him, I was going to stop working with STAR Labs.  What if I made a huge mistake?  He _fired_ Hartley for threatening to go public – what if he retaliates against me for putting my foot down?” 

There was silence on the other end of the line.  “Barry,” Iris said, “if Doctor Wells is the kind of person who would punish you for having boundaries and standing up for yourself?  He’s _not_ the kind of person you need in your life.” 

Barry bowed his head.  “I know that.  But I depend on him and STAR Labs for so many things – I’m getting ready to move into an apartment, Iris.  If he cuts me off, I’m going to burn through my savings at the speed of sound trying to keep myself fed, or I’ll have to start stealing again.  I can’t go back to that.” 

“That’s not going to happen,” Iris said firmly.  “I don’t know how yet, but you shouldn’t have to be financially dependent on someone who might hurt you.  If your worst-case scenario happens and Dr. Wells does try to get even, I’ll help you figure something out.  Now that I’m actually getting in with people at the paper, I’m starting to get a bit of influence.  Maybe my mentor will be able to help me think of something.” 

“Thanks, Iris.”  Barry dabbed at his eyes with the tissue, too overwhelmed to say more than that.  Even if it wasn’t a concrete path forward, the idea that someone else would be thinking about Barry’s well-being was enough to lift some of the weight from his shoulders.  “Your mentor – what’s he like?” he said, changing the subject.  “You said he was running you ragged, but it also sounds like you respect him a lot.” 

“He’s something else, that’s for sure,” Iris said, and Barry nearly sighed in relief when she accepted the tangent with no further questions.  “Mason Bridge is his name.  He’s a fantastic journalist – he’s won two Pulitzers.” 

Barry’s eyes widened.  “And he’s giving you his personal attention?  Iris, that’s awesome!”

“Well, sort of,” Iris said ruefully.  “He’s only mentoring me because our boss ordered him to – he calls it being on nanny duty.  But he’s right that I have a lot to learn,” she continued, and Barry bit back the indignant comment that had been forming on his lips.  “He’s been doing this job a long time, and he sees things I don’t.  I just want him to see that I have potential.” 

“You _do_ have potential, whether Mason Bridge sees it or not,” Barry said firmly.  “Eventually you’ll get a chance to prove that.  Just stick with it – and if he does say anything nasty to you, say the word and the Flash will give him the middle finger on live television.” 

Iris laughed.  “Thanks, Barry.  I don’t think it’ll come to that, but it’s nice having someone who believes in me.” 

“Right back at you, Iris.”  Barry smiled as a burst of affection for his best friend chased away the worst of his remaining anger at Dr. Wells.  Whether he could trust Dr. Wells or not, things would be okay as long as he still had people like Iris in his corner.  “Thanks for taking my call even though you’re on the clock.” 

“I’m glad you called,” Iris said.  “I hadn’t realized how much the entry-level stuff was grinding on me until I told you about it, but I feel better now.  Is there anything else on your mind besides the Wells thing?” 

“It’s been pretty pervasive, honestly,” Barry sighed.  He wrapped his free arm around his knees again.  “I spent this morning processing a case at Doctor Wells’ house.  Did Eddie tell you that Hartley tried to kill him in his own home last night?” 

“He said the two of you went to a crime scene, but he didn’t give me a ton of details,” Iris said.  “I think he tries to shield me from things sometimes.” 

“You’re probably right about that,” Barry admitted.  “It’s an ugly job.”

“I know, but it’s not necessary,” Iris sighed.  “I’ve been a cop’s daughter my whole life – I’ve always known the job can be ugly.  Now that I’m a journalist, I can’t let people treat me with kid gloves if I’m going to prove myself.”   

“This is massively hypocritical coming from me, but you should probably talk to Eddie about this when you get the chance,” Barry said, his lips twitching.  “He probably doesn’t even realize he’s trying to shield you.  I obviously don’t know him as well as you do, but from what I’ve seen he’s the kind of guy who will do his best to put burdens on his own shoulders so that the people he loves can be happy.” 

“You’re right about that,” Iris said, sounding happier.  “I’m glad you see it too.  It’s something the two of you have in common.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “Iris, Eddie and I don’t belong in the same _league_ when it comes to selflessness.” 

“Barry, just take the compliment,” Iris said with a laugh in her voice.  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re your own worst critic?”

Barry shifted on the sofa.  “Well, someone’s got to keep me accountable,” he said, shrugging one shoulder and trying not to feel embarrassed.  “With this whole vigilante business and not wanting to see my name up in lights, it’s not like I can depend entirely on what people think of me to keep me on the straight and narrow.”  Not that all of his motivation was intrinsic or anything – his fears about what he’d do if Dr. Wells cut him off were proof enough of that.  He’d be disappointed in himself, but the thought of the people he’d be disappointing if he fell back on old habits was almost physically painful.  Len, Iris, Cisco, Caitlin – even the citizens of Central City, to an extent.  All of them were counting on him to be better than he had been, and he couldn’t let them down. 

“Just make sure you don’t do anything too noble and self-sacrificing, okay?” Iris said.  “Central City needs the Flash, but some of us need Barry Allen.” 

Barry flopped back on the sofa, unable to contain the grin spreading across his face.  “Don’t you have work to be doing?  Besides making the city’s resident speedster feel better, of course.” 

“You know I’m always happy to do it,” Iris said.  “I do need to get back to my desk, but thanks for calling.  Let me know if anything else happens with Doctor Wells.” 

“I will.  Talk to you later, Iris.” 

Barry hung up the phone, still smiling, and lay down on the sofa with his head on one of the pillows he used.  Now that the cauldron of hurt and anger inside him had stopped its furious bubbling, he was gradually becoming aware of how _exhausted_ he was.  The fight with Hartley and its nausea-inducing aftermath had completely drained his batteries, and now that he was laying down he found that he wasn’t relishing the idea of getting up again. 

He could force himself to roll off the sofa and keep going about his day… but for once he wasn’t sure it would accomplish much.  He couldn’t go back to STAR Labs right now, and Lisa would kill him if she caught him coming back to work for the third time that day.  Hartley was safely confined to a cell, even if he wasn’t in police lockup like he should be, so there wasn’t any danger on that front.  For the time being, things were quiet – a moment of calm in the middle of the shitshow this week had already become. 

Besides, he’d just gotten off the phone with his best friend, who was always insisting that he take better care of himself. 

Barry kicked off his shoes and pulled a blanket over himself.  By the time his head hit the pillow, his tiredness was already dragging him under. 

* * *

The buzz of a vibrating phone eventually pulled Barry out of an exhausted, dreamless sleep. 

He groaned and rolled over, scrubbing at his eyes before reaching for his phone.  There was still some daylight filtering through the windows of Caitlin’s apartment, which was a relief considering he hadn’t set any kind of alarm at all.  It would have been easy to sleep the rest of the day away. 

His eyebrows rose when he saw the number on his screen – it was a text message from Bette.  She wanted to know if she could meet him sometime tomorrow before noon to make a final decision on an apartment.  For a second, Barry’s stomach churned at the thought of making a commitment on something so major when everything else in his life was in such complete disarray, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and consider the idea from a different perspective.    

For the time being, every other aspect of Barry’s life was currently in deadlock.  He couldn’t figure out what to do about the situation with STAR Labs.  He wasn’t about to hold his breath waiting on Dr. Wells’ apology.  He couldn’t make any progress in resolving things with Len until he got back from his vacation.  He couldn’t even get to the bottom of what was going on with Hartley.  But he could take steps to resolve his housing situation, and that was something. 

Barry double-checked his work schedule and let Bette know that he’d be free at nine tomorrow if she wanted to meet him at the first of the apartments.  He figured that would be enough time to get himself ready for the day ahead, especially if he set his work alarm and pretended to himself that they were meeting at eight thirty. 

He rolled off the sofa and brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes before glancing at the clock to check the time.  It was after four in the afternoon, but Barry’s stomach was beginning to gnaw at itself hungrily all the same.  Barry racked his brains and realized that he couldn’t remember what he’d eaten for lunch – if he’d eaten anything at all.  He’d been stressed enough about the situation with Dr. Wells that he hadn’t noticed himself growing hungry, but now that he’d had some time to calm down he could tell that his blood sugar levels were probably starting to become dangerous. 

He pursed his lips.  There were a few energy bars in the kitchen, but after the shitty day he’d had, Barry was really in the mood for some takeout.  Some General Tso’s from his favorite Chinese takeout place would hit the spot, maybe with a few containers of fried rice. 

Mind made up, Barry reached into his pocket to grab his wallet – only to freeze when he realized that he was wearing a spare change of clothes, and that his pants from earlier, along with his wallet, were back at STAR Labs. 

 _Dammit._ Barry resisted the urge to throw another pillow, because there went his dreams of a delicious takeout dinner.  Although… he’d need his wallet if he was going to visit apartments with Bette tomorrow, to say nothing of needing his badge for work. 

He was going to have to go by STAR Labs, even if it was just a quick drive-by.  Maybe he’d have one lucky break today and manage to avoid Dr. Wells completely. 

At the very least, he could make a phone call to see if the coast was clear.  And if he could check up on a friend who was having an equally shitty day, that would be a bonus. 

He dialed Cisco’s number, and let out a breath of relief when his friend picked up almost immediately.  “Hey Barry, what’s up?”

His words were cheerful, but if the sound of his voice was anything to go by, Barry wasn’t the only person at STAR Labs who’d benefit from a nap today.  “Hey Cisco,” Barry said, biting his lip.  “Is there any chance that you’re still at STAR Labs?” 

“Yeah, I’m here.  I thought about going home, but if I was at my apartment I’d be sitting in front of the TV eating ice cream and feeling sorry for myself, so I decided to stay here and mess with Hartley’s gauntlets,” Cisco replied.  “They’re really cool tech, but if he ever finds out I said that, his head’ll probably swell until it explodes.” 

Barry snorted at the joke, his lips turning up in spite of himself.  He’d rather hear that Cisco was working on something than wallowing.  “Did you figure out how they work?” 

“I’ve managed to tease out some of their secrets, but it’s slow going,” Cisco said.  “These things are functional, but from a design standpoint they’re held together by spit and prayers.  I’m sort of surprised Hartley hasn’t blown his own hands off using them.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “That’s weird.  If he’s so good at what he does, why is he going around using poorly-made weapons?  I thought he was more meticulous than that.” 

“That’s the funny thing,” Cisco said.  Barry could imagine the engineer’s frown of concentration, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Cisco had started nibbling on a screwdriver while he lost himself in thought.   “Hartley _is_ meticulous, and he’s a better gadgeteer than this.  His work at STAR Labs was way higher quality than these gauntlets.  If you’re in tomorrow I’ll show you what I’m talking about.” 

“About that – I was actually thinking about coming over there now,” Barry said.  “It’s getting kind of awkward hauling the Flash suit around everywhere, and I think I might have left my wallet in my pants pocket.” 

“Oh dang, you’ve got a point there,” Cisco said.  “Your clothes are in the side office – and yep, I’ve got your wallet here.  Your CSI badge too.” 

Barry cringed.  He’d need the badge for work, and he didn’t want to explain why it was missing if he didn’t go back to get it tonight.  “Damn, I hadn’t thought of that.  Thanks for checking.  I was… actually just calling to see if Doctor Wells was there before I came by,” he admitted, shoulders hunching slightly at his own cowardice.  If Cisco was able to endure being at STAR Labs, Barry had no excuse for running out the way he had. 

“I don’t know where he is, but he’s not here,” Cisco said.  “He texted me a couple of hours ago and told me he was going to take the night off, in case I wanted to come in and tinker without bumping into him.”

“Oh.  That’s – good,” Barry said, his fingers tightening on his phone.  It wasn’t that he’d _wanted_ to hear from Dr. Wells, but why couldn’t his mentor have done _him_ the courtesy of sending a simple heads-up, if he’d already texted Cisco?  “Is it alright if I come by?  I can just grab my stuff and go, but if you want to show me Hartley’s gauntlets I can stay longer.” 

“Barry, you can stay as long as you want,” Cisco said, and something about the gentle tone of his voice made Barry suspect he wasn’t just talking about the gauntlets anymore. 

It was a relief when the conversation ended quickly, but Barry should have known better than to think that Cisco would let him off the hook emotion-wise.  As soon as he took his first tentative steps into the Cortex, the engineer rose from his workstation and walked toward Barry with his arms outstretched.  “Really, Cisco, I’m okay-” Barry began, but Cisco ignored his protests, and when he wrapped Barry up in a hug Barry couldn’t bring himself to do anything but hug his friend in return. 

“I heard some of what you said to Doctor Wells,” Cisco said, his voice somewhat muffled against Barry’s shoulder.  “Would you really leave the team?” 

Barry’s fingers tightened on Cisco’s shirt as guilt punched him in the stomach.  “I didn’t mean for you to hear all that,” he said.  “You’ve got enough shit on your plate without worrying that one of your friends is going to leave you.” 

“Nu-uh.  Let’s get one thing straight, pal,” Cisco said, leaning back to look Barry in the eyes.  “You are not gonna leave me.  Whether we work in the same building or not, you’re still my best bro and that _is. Not. Changing.”_ He punctuated each word with by poking Barry in the chest with one finger, and in spite of himself Barry felt the beginnings of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.  “If you need time to do your own thing, take it.  Grab the suit and go off into the world.  Will it scare the hell out of me to think that you’re out there being a vigilante without backup?  Yeah, it will, but that’s not the point.  The point is that nobody here is going to stop you – and if you decide you want to come back, _we’ll still be here._ ”  Cisco smiled.  “What kind of a best friend would I be if I left you out to dry?” 

Barry blinked, and was unsurprised that his vision grew blurry with a faint haze of tears.  “C’mere,” he said, pulling Cisco in for another hug. 

A minute or so passed before Barry released Cisco.  “I don’t know what I’ll do yet,” he admitted.  “I haven’t made a decision.  I’ve just been – panicking.  But thanks for telling me it’s okay.  I didn’t want you or Caitlin to be mad at me.” 

“We won’t be.  We want you to be happy, and sometimes that means taking a bit of vacation.”  Cisco squeezed his shoulder and stepped back.  “Now, do you wanna grab your stuff and scoot or do you have a minute to look at Hartley’s gauntlets?” 

“Definitely the gauntlets,” Barry said.  There was no point in going back to Caitlin’s apartment to continue his moping when he could be spending time with Cisco instead. 

Barry swiped his wallet and badge from the center console and hung the Flash suit back on its mannequin before following Cisco into one of the side offices.  Hartley’s gauntlets were sitting on the desk, powered down.  One was still intact, but the other had been partially disassembled and was laying in pieces on the workbench.  “Is it safe to touch?” Barry asked. 

“It should be,” Cisco said.  “There were a few nasty internal circuits that looked like they’d been designed to overload in case of tampering, but I’m pretty sure I disabled them all.” 

Barry nodded.  “How long have you been working on them?” 

“A few hours,” Cisco replied.  “Caitlin and I were in one of the breakrooms when Doctor Wells texted me that he was leaving the building.  We both came back up to the Cortex for a while, but Caitlin is spending time with Martin and Ronnie right now.  She might be staying the night here.”

“Speaking of staying the night, do you know what Doctor Wells is going to do about that?” Barry said, tilting his head.  “His house is still full of shattered glass bits and part of his roof is missing – it wouldn’t make much sense for him to go home.” 

“He said something about getting a hotel, but I don’t know where he’s staying,” Cisco admitted.  “There was a lot going on, and then Hartley said his piece and I sort of stopped listening for a little while.” 

Barry nodded.  “Give yourself some credit though – you’re still working on Hartley’s gauntlets, which probably hasn’t been easy.”  It was a lot more than Barry had done with the time following his meltdown, not that he was going to say anything else about that to Cisco.  His friend had reassured him enough for one day, and it was time for Barry to return the favor.  “Can you show me what you meant about them being poor quality?” 

“Sure, man.”  Cisco picked up a screwdriver and teased apart several wires, then motioned for Barry to look closer.  “By the standards of Hartley’s usual work, these almost look unfinished,” he explained.  “There’s lots of vulnerable circuits and mechanisms here, which Hartley would never have left exposed if he had an alternative.” 

“Why haven’t they completely fallen apart on him, then?” Barry said.  “They’re perfectly functional, if his attack on Rathaway Industries was anything to go by.” 

“Because even though there’s some serious materials defects, Hartley’s been _anal_ about constructing them to last,” Cisco said.  “Check out the soldering.  At first I thought Hartley had cobbled these together overnight, but the construction is sound, which is probably the only reason they haven’t blown up in his face.”

“So what are you saying?” Barry asked. 

“I’m saying that even though these gauntlets are way less sophisticated than what he’s capable of, they’re clearly something that Hartley spent a lot of time working on.  If I had to guess, they’re made the way they are because Hartley didn’t have the resources to improve them.” 

“Lucky for us,” Barry said, frowning.  “But that makes a lot of sense.  The CCPD’s records say that Hartley’s currently unemployed, so he probably doesn’t have access to a lab.”

Cisco’s jaw dropped.  _“Unemployed?_ Are you kidding?  There’s no way he wouldn’t have been snapped up by someone – if not Mercury, one of the tech companies at least.  Palmer Technologies would kill for someone with his experience, and it’s not like physicists are known for their award-winning personalities,” he said with a rueful shrug.  “He’s a tough pill to swallow, but there’s just no way that _nobody_ would want him.” 

“That’s pretty much what I was thinking,” Barry admitted.  “I feel like there might be something else going on that we don’t know about, and what you’re saying about the gauntlets clinches it.  Do you think it would be safe for me to talk to him alone?” he said, fidgeting.  “I might be wrong, but I think there’s a chance that Hartley cares about what I think of him.  He’s trying to turn all of us against Doctor Wells, but some of the things he’s said make me think he sees me as some sort of replacement.  And he’s tried to warn me about things before.” 

Cisco stared at Barry for a minute, then sighed.  “You’ve got a point.  I’ll let you in, but be careful.  You’ve seen how good he is at getting under people’s skin.” 

He set his screwdriver back on the bench and started out of the Cortex.  Barry quickly changed back into the Flash suit and followed behind.    

“There’s one more thing,” Cisco said quietly when they were in the elevator headed downward.  “I figured out that Hartley’s gauntlets have different intensity settings.  When he attacked Rathaway Industries, they were set to their _lowest_ intensity.” 

Barry blanched.  If their lowest intensity made them capable of shattering windows from hundreds of feet away, he did _not_ want to see what the higher settings could do.  “That’s… horrifying, but that also doesn’t make any sense,” he said, shaking his head.  “If he wanted to do damage to Rathaway Industries, or kill me, he would have been able to do much worse if he’d used higher-intensity blasts.  Maybe he couldn’t do that without blowing off his own hands?” 

“Maybe,” Cisco said, biting his lip.  “I just wish I knew for sure.” 

When Cisco pressed his thumb to the access panel and opened the door, Barry found himself suppressing the urge to ask his friend to come with him after all.  It wasn’t nighttime yet, but that didn’t matter in the underground portions of STAR Labs.  The cold metal walls of the particle accelerator still gleamed dully in the dim light, making Barry feel claustrophobic, and for a minute he found himself submerged in panicked half-thoughts about being locked in a cell himself. 

He shook his head.  This wasn’t the time to get paranoid about things that would probably never happen – and if he wanted to get anything out of Hartley, he was going to have to keep his wits about him. 

Hartley was just visible in the Pipeline’s dim lighting, laying on his back in his makeshift cell.  For a minute Barry thought Hartley was asleep and debated retreating, but the sound of footsteps had Hartley quickly sitting upright.  “Who’s there?” he called. 

“It’s me,” Barry replied, lacing his reply with a bit more vibration than usual.  Hartley’s hearing was superhuman, and Barry didn’t want to take the chance that Hartley might be able to catch a glimpse of his real voice hidden underneath.   

“ _Flash._ To what do I owe the pleasure?”  Hartley didn’t seem like he was planning to stand up anytime soon, which Barry couldn’t fault him for – if he’d been thrown in a glass cage, he probably wouldn’t be in a huge hurry to stand up for the people who’d put him there. 

Barry took a seat in front of the glass, using a burst of speed to cover how awkward the motion was in his suit.  Hartley rocked backward as the lightning lit up the confined space, but once he realized that Barry was sitting down in front of him, instead of making a move to punch the glass, he looked momentarily thrown. 

Since he was vibrating his face too much to be seen clearly, Barry allowed his lips to twitch in amusement before schooling himself back into neutrality.  He wasn’t here to needle Hartley, although he was sure his resolve would be tested before long.  “I want some answers,” he said.  “Not about your powers, or your gauntlets, or why you’re doing what you’re doing.  I want you to tell me about Harrison Wells.” 

He saw a muscle in Hartley’s jaw tighten.  “What’s it to you?  You work with him.  Now that he’s spilled the beans, surely you must know everything you need to know about him already.” 

Barry tilted his head.  He’d been expecting defiance, but there was something else in Hartley’s voice that he couldn’t quite get at.  “If that were true, you wouldn’t have spent so much of your time and energy trying to goad me into being afraid of him,” Barry countered, hoping he’d be able to use Hartley’s microexpressions to gauge what he was thinking.  “You would have let the secret speak for itself.  Doctor Wells told us about the particle accelerator, but I don’t think that’s it.  I think there’s more.” 

Hartley let out a long-suffering sigh, but it didn’t disguise the tension ratcheting through his shoulders.  “Even if there is more, why should I tell you?  You’re disgusted by what he did, but at the end of the day you’re still his dog.  You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Barry’s eyes narrowed.  “Look,” he snapped.  “We both know I trust you half as far as I can throw you-“

“Oh don’t worry,” Hartley said, his lip curling, “the feeling’s mutual-”

“- but even though you’re a massive dick and have done nothing but give my team a hard time since you got here, anyone with eyes can tell that there is something else going on here.  You flinch every time Doctor Wells looks at you, police records say you haven’t been employed in months-“

“Shh!”  Hartley lurched from his sprawl on the Pipeline floor to a half-crouch, glaring.  “There are _cameras recording us,”_ he hissed, jabbing a finger upward at the ceiling, “and you are _loud._ ” 

Barry gritted his teeth – he wasn’t _that_ loud, although Hartley’s super-hearing would probably beg to differ.  But Hartley did have a point about the cameras.  Reigning in his internal grimace, Barry lowered his voice when he continued.  “You may not want to let on, but you’re doing all of this for a reason, and I don’t think it’s as simple as wanting to make Dr. Wells pay, or trying to ruin our team.  What I can’t figure out is _why._ ”  He met Hartley’s eyes and refused to flinch as the other man stared him down.  “So tell me.  What did Harrison Wells do to you that you aren’t telling us about?” 

Hartley’s shoulders hunched as he looked at Barry from behind his glasses.  “It doesn’t matter anyway.  You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

There was a new expression on Hartley’s face, open in a different way than his sneers and glares, and it occurred to Barry that the emotion glimmering behind Hartley’s defiance and bravado wasn’t anger – it was _fear_. 

He wasn’t sure why it had taken him so long to recognize it, since in some ways it was like looking in a mirror. 

Barry let out a slow breath as he re-evaluated the situation.  If Barry was right, and Hartley was as afraid of telling the whole truth as he was of being left to rot in a secret underground prison, calling his bluff wouldn’t get Barry anywhere.  Neither would threats, and begging for information would get him laughed out of the Pipeline for his trouble. 

It looked like he was going to have to fall back on Plan B, and visit someone he would really have preferred to avoid approaching.  But he had no other choice if he was going to satisfy the suspicious voice in the back of his mind, the one urging him to get to the bottom of everything before he did something else hasty that he’d come to regret. 

The fact that the cautious voice in Barry’s head sounded uncannily like _Len’s_ voice was something that he’d have to unpack at a later time.

For now, he gave Hartley a sharp nod.  “Fine.  I won’t push you – but I won’t leave this alone.  If neither you or Doctor Wells will tell me everything, I’ll find someone who will.” 

“Good luck with that,” Hartley said.  “If you’re going to start digging, you’ll have a lot of shit to sift through.” 

Barry shrugged and rose to his feet.  “Lucky for me I know where to start.  And one more thing,” he added.  “I may not agree with what you’re doing now, or understand your reasons.  But what you did before the particle accelerator blew?  Standing your ground and telling the truth no matter what happened because of it?  That was brave as hell.  I’d like to think I would have done the same thing if I’d been in your shoes.” 

He turned around before Hartley could say anything else, but as Barry left the Pipeline, a part of him was convinced he could still feel the other man’s stare drilling a hole in his back.

* * *

Barry stared up at the tall, imposing façade of Mercury Labs, its miles of windows gleaming in the light of the setting sun, and forced himself to take a deep breath before starting for the front doors. 

He’d tossed around several different strategies before ultimately deciding to approach Dr. McGee as a CSI instead of as a metahuman vigilante.  There was a certain amount of risk coming here under the guise of being involved in an active investigation, but it was better than coming as the Flash.  He’d rather have word of his snooping get back to Lisa and Captain Singh than Dr. Wells, which was guaranteed to happen if the Scarlet Speedster showed up at Dr. McGee’s facility. 

At the very least, it was the best first step Barry could think of.  If Dr. McGee wouldn’t see him in plainclothes, Barry would have little option but to return as the Flash – an option that would mean breaking and entering, instead of an elevator ride up to Dr. McGee’s office.  Vigilantes couldn’t check in at the front desk, whether they had good publicity or not, and as much as Barry wanted the opportunity to poke around Mercury Labs’ facilities further, he wasn’t about to risk breaking and entering at a highly secure research facility just to get Dr. McGee to answer a couple of questions. 

“Um – hi,” Barry said, pushing his worries to the back of his mind and doing his best to smile at the receptionist.  “My name’s Barry Allen.  I’m here to see Doctor McGee.  Is she in?” 

“Do you have an appointment?” said the petite blonde woman behind the desk, tilting her head to look up at him.   

Barry swallowed.  _Shit._ “I was hoping she could squeeze me in.  I work for the CCPD?” Barry offered.  He pulled out his badge and showed it to the attendant, who looked mollified by the sight of his laminate, but still not convinced.  “Look, I know this isn’t company policy or anything, but – can you call Doctor McGee’s office?” Barry tried, feeling a bit desperate.  “We’ve met before, and I think she’ll be willing to see me.” 

The receptionist eyed him skeptically, but picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a few numbers.  “Doctor McGee, this is Becky from the front desk,” she said.  “There’s a man named Barry Allen here to see you.  Should I send him up?” 

Barry waited for Dr. McGee’s answer with bated breath.  Considering that his last conversation with the physicist had ended in blackmail threats that had ultimately led to the loss of her tachyon prototype, it was entirely possible that his visit to Mercury Labs would end with a security escort out of the building instead of the audience he wanted. 

But it seemed his luck would hold, at least for now.  Becky put down the phone and waved Barry closer to the desk.  “She’s willing to see you,” she said with a smile that looked much more genuine now that she’d gotten the clear from her boss.  “Let me just print you a visitor’s badge-“ she handed Barry a small stick-on identification badge with his name printed next to the Mercury Labs logo – “and you should be set.  Just head through the metal detector and someone will show you to the elevators.  Doctor McGee’s office is on the eighteenth floor.” 

“Thank you!”  Barry stuck the badge on his shirt and waved to Becky before turning to walk toward the elevators, hoping his smile was enough to hide the buzz of nerves that was building under his skin.  He’d gotten into the building, but the hardest part was yet to come. 

After enduring a trip through the metal detector, a second full-body scan, and the suspicious scrutiny of the elevator guards, Barry was finally allowed to board the elevator.  One of the attendants keyed in a six-digit security code to the keypad, and with that Barry was rocketing upward toward the eighteenth floor of Mercury Labs. 

Barry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves.  There was a real possibility that this conversation could turn sour, but he reminded himself that visiting Dr. McGee’s office with legitimate permission was infinitely better than having to sneak in as the Flash.  Vigilante and thief he may be, but Barry didn’t have the kinds of skills required to break into a facility like this one.  Patience and slight-of-hand had always been the main talents in his arsenal, and his speed had enhanced those skills, but that didn’t mean Barry knew how to get past the different types of security Mercury Labs relied on to safeguard its technology.  Even the elevator keypad might well have been beyond him – Barry could have used his speed to try out every possible six-digit combination, but what if the keypad had locked him out after a certain number of tries, or triggered an alarm because of an incorrect input? 

It was humbling, and a bit disconcerting to think about – especially when he considered that the Reverse-Flash had broken into Mercury Labs with apparent ease, not once but twice.  He’d been able to get in and out without leaving so much as a trace, and Barry still had no clue how he’d done it. 

The elevator dinged, and Barry barely had time to register that he’d stopped moving before the doors began to slide open.  _Fuck_ – if Barry had realized how short the ride would be, he would have used his powers to dilate time around him, give himself longer to rehearse his speech. 

That wasn’t an option now.  Anyone could come onto the landing and see him, and if he let even a single gold spark fly in this building, he wasn’t confident that he wouldn’t be noticed.  Dr. McGee had been robbed by a speedster already, and even if she hadn’t gone public about the theft, Barry was willing to bet she’d gotten creative when it came to her security. 

He wrung his hands together nervously before starting toward the door of Dr. McGee’s office.  Dawdling wouldn’t do him any good now. 

“Come in!” Dr. McGee said when Barry rapped a knuckle against the door of her office.  He opened the door and filed inside to see her sitting behind her desk, sending him a piercing look from behind her glasses. 

Barry wrenched his mouth open and forced himself to breathe.  He could do this.  He would be _fine._ “Doctor McGee,” he said, and was relieved when his voice didn’t waver.  “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.” 

“I confess it was curiosity that prompted me to invite you in, Mister Allen,” she said, nodding in acknowledgement of his thanks but seeming to prefer to get straight to the point.  “Especially since I don’t recall agreeing to consult on any of the CCPD’s ongoing cases.” 

“I know,” Barry said, forcing his hands to remain still at his sides.  “But I was hoping I could actually ask you for a character reference.  For a case.” 

Dr. McGee tilted her head.  “A character reference?  Why come to me, when you could ask Doctor Wells?  We know many of the same people.” 

“Because I already know that Doctor Wells has a bias.”  Barry drew in a deep breath, then took the plunge.  “Did a man named Hartley Rathaway ever interview here?  I know you probably have a lot of candidates, so you might not remember him, but is there a chance that you ever spoke to him?” 

Dr. McGee nodded slowly.  “As it happens, I do remember Mister Rathaway.  He had a prodigious intellect, and was quite talented, if a bit too brusque for my preference.” 

So Hartley had been here.  He’d even spoken directly to Doctor McGee, something most job candidates probably didn’t get a chance to do.  “Can I ask – why didn’t you hire him, if he was qualified?” 

Dr. McGee was silent for a long moment before she locked eyes with Barry.  “Because I was told by a reputable source that Hartley Rathaway could not be trusted with confidential information.  At the time, declining to present him with an employment opportunity seemed the best way to safeguard my business.”

For a second, Barry closed his eyes and allowed the ice-cold wave of dread to rattle its way down his spine.  Then he looked back at Dr. McGee.  “Who told you that Hartley Rathaway couldn’t be trusted with confidential information?”

Dr. McGee’s lips flattened into a thin, unhappy line.  “From the look on your face, I think you already know the answer to that question.”

Barry nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the wall behind Dr. McGee as he mulled it all over in his head.  He wished he could say he was surprised, but all this conversation had done was confirm the tiny, poisonous suspicion that had started growing in his mind. 

It was the last puzzle piece he needed to understand what had happened to Hartley Rathaway, and it made Barry’s stomach churn.  Hartley had tried to do the right thing and had been cut down for it – but worse, when he’d tried to get up and move on with his life, Dr. Wells had made sure he had nowhere to go.  The odd jobs, the lack of resources, the fear masked by careful bravado, all of it tied back to the fact that the same man who held Barry’s life by the throat had done everything in his power to crush Hartley Rathaway beneath his boot, and for all intents and purposes he’d succeeded. 

The longer Barry thought about it, the more it seemed exactly like something Dr. Wells could have done. 

“Was that all you needed?”  Dr. McGee’s voice jarred Barry back to reality, and when he looked back at her he was shocked to see sympathy in her eyes.  Dr. Wells had said shitty things about her too, he suddenly remembered.  He’d called her egocentric even though she’d shown herself to be nothing but pragmatic and kind, and then he’d manipulated Barry into blackmailing her – and Barry had done it in spite of his misgivings, because it had been to stop the Reverse-Flash.  A plan that Dr. Wells had goaded him into following by calling him a coward to his face, and _how had he managed to miss all of this for so long, when in hindsight it was so obvious?_

“I need one other thing,” he said to Dr. McGee.  “I need to apologize for what I said to you at the precinct.  I shouldn’t have blackmailed you, whether we needed the tachyon prototype or not.  I forced your hand, and now it’s missing even though I promised we’d return it safely.” 

Dr. McGee shook her head.  “I won’t bother asking how you know about the theft of my prototype, but I don’t hold you responsible.  The CCPD returned my prototype to me intact.  As far as I’m concerned, you fulfilled your promise.” 

Barry bit his lip.  It was nice, knowing that Dr. McGee didn’t blame him, but it didn’t absolve him of his guilt.  “Is it okay if I come back another time and look at the security tapes from the night it was taken?” he asked.  “I don’t know if there have been any new leads, but if the man in yellow was the one who stole your prototype, I’ve been studying him my whole life.  I might see something that other people missed.” 

Dr. McGee eyed him appraisingly before plucking a business card from the holder on her desk.  She scribbled something on the back of it, then handed it to Barry.  “The number on the back is my personal line,” she said, and Barry’s jaw dropped.  “If you’re able to ascertain anything new about the theft of my prototype, I would be grateful.  But be careful, Mister Allen.  Discretion is the better part of valor.” 

Barry smiled, but he couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that it was a little late for discretion now.  “I’ll keep my head down, but I’d appreciate it if you called me Barry.  And – please don’t mention to Doctor Wells that I was here.” 

“He won’t hear a word from me,” Dr. McGee said, and as he rode the elevator back down to the lobby of Mercury Labs, Barry found that he couldn’t shake the memory of the knowing look in her eyes. 

* * *

When Barry returned to Caitlin’s apartment with Chinese takeout in hand, he was surprised to find it empty until he remembered that she was spending the evening with Ronnie and Martin.  He debated staying awake to wait for her once he’d finished his meal, but he was still exhausted.  There was a very real chance that what he’d learned about Dr. Wells would keep him awake no matter what he did, but he figured he’d at least try and go to sleep right away. 

Barry must have underestimated how tired he was, because when his phone rang it startled him out of a dead sleep.  He shot back to consciousness so quickly he nearly fell off Caitlin’s sofa.  It was his priority alert, the ringtone he had saved for friends and family, and Barry reached for the device and turned it over. 

An icy wave of terror surged him when he saw the name on the caller ID screen.  _Harrison Wells._

Barry’s finger hovered over the screen, and for a second he was struck with the urge to ignore the call altogether.  But Dr. Wells wouldn’t have called him at – four in the morning, according to the numbers on his phone – if there wasn’t something seriously wrong.  What if he ignored the call and it turned out to be an emergency?

He bit his lip and answered the phone, his heart hammering furiously in his chest.  “Hello?” 

“Hi, Barry,” said Dr. Wells on the other end of the line. 

Barry curled into a ball on the sofa, fingers playing with the hem of his blanket in an attempt to curb the nausea that surged through him at the sound of Dr. Wells’ voice.  “Doctor Wells – hi.  Is something wrong?” he said, hoping the odd tone of his voice was something that could be written off as a side effect of sleepiness instead of vague, formless terror. 

How the hell was he going to work with this man now, when the sound of his voice was enough to take a year off Barry’s life? 

“I’m sorry to call you so late, but I wanted to let you know that I received a security alert from STAR Labs,” Dr. Wells continued, dragging Barry out of his thoughts.  “There’s been a Pipeline breach.” 

Barry sat bolt upright on the sofa, his anxiety about speaking to Dr. Wells driven away by a flood of entirely different panic.  “Fuck – it’s Hartley,” he said, his hand curling into a fist.  “He must have escaped somehow.  I’ll get over there, I need to catch him before he can do any damage-”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Dr. Wells said firmly, and Barry nearly choked on his own frustration until Wells continued speaking.  “Whatever Hartley did, he tampered with STAR Labs’ security systems during his getaway.  I should have received this alert an hour ago, but am only now learning about the breach.  Whatever Hartley’s up to, he’s doubtlessly long gone.”  

“Shit.”  Barry slumped back down, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close.  “What are we going to do, then?”  With Hartley out of the Pipeline, there was no question that Barry would have to go back to STAR Labs – he was a threat and he needed to be taken out, even if that meant shoving his fear of Dr. Wells to the side until Hartley was in custody.  Shitty past aside, if Hartley was going to keep decimating buildings and attempting to kill people, it didn’t matter how tempted Barry was to empathize with him.

“First things first,” Dr. Wells said calmly.  “Tomorrow morning, Cisco will be going over our files to determine if any data has been accessed, and if so, what exactly has been taken.  You’re welcome to join us, but we can fill you in on anything you miss.” 

“That’ll be fine,” Barry said, stomach knotting at his easy concession but relieved at having been given an out.  “I have work tomorrow, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get away for long.”  He’d also be spending some time signing a lease, unless shit really hit the fan – but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Dr. Wells about that. “What are you going to do?” he asked, anxious to redirect the conversation away from his plans for tomorrow. 

There was silence on the other end, and for a minute Barry wondered if Dr. Wells had hung up on him.  “Hartley doesn’t think I’ve paid for my crimes,” he said quietly, “and he’s right.”  Barry blinked.  “Until he feels I’ve atoned sufficiently, he will not stop.  I intend to give him what he wants.” 

“What do you mean?” Barry said, gripping the pillow in alarm.  “If he wants to kill you-”

“I appreciate your concern, Barry, but I don’t intend to let him kill me,” Dr. Wells said.  Barry forced himself to release his stranglehold on the pillow.  “Hartley expects a different kind of _mea culpa_ tomorrow.” 

“Okay, that’s all well and good, but what are you actually going to _do?_ ”  Barry was dangerously close to snapping at Dr. Wells, and he reined in his volume guiltily – he didn’t want to wake Caitlin up, if she was here. 

“Make sure you’re at the precinct tomorrow afternoon,” Dr. Wells said cryptically, “and you’ll see.  Now, get some sleep.  Tomorrow’s shaping up to be quite an eventful day.” 

After a few more exchanges, Barry hung up the phone and lay back down on the sofa, staring at the screen as if the device was about to grow teeth and bite him. 

How the actual _fuck_ was he supposed to go to sleep after an exchange like that?  Hartley had escaped the supposedly-impregnable secret prison in their basement, Dr. Wells was planning to offer himself up on a silver platter, and Barry was supposed to – what, exactly?  Sit back and act like it was just a normal day and enjoy the reprieve until everything started going to shit again? 

He unlocked his phone with trembling hands, cursing internally when he mistyped his passcode.  Timing-wise, this particular bout of anxiety couldn’t have come at a worse time – it was the middle of the night, and Barry wasn’t about to reach out if it meant waking one of his friends from the middle of a dead sleep. 

On the other hand, there was one person that Barry could text without risking an untimely wake-up call.  Len wouldn’t be able to receive his texts until he got service, so there was no chance that Barry’s four AM ramblings would disturb him.  Technically, Barry had also been given permission to spam Len’s phone, even if he’d been a bit reluctant to actually do it since he’d yet to have a serious conversation with Len about _any_ of his myriad secrets. 

He opened up their conversation and started typing before he could talk himself out of it.  _Had a few thoughts about some things you could try while you and Mick are training,_ he began, and then he was off. 

As he dredged the depths of his imagination for new techniques and strategies that Len could turn to his advantage, Barry felt his heart rate start to settle.  His breathing evened out, and he found himself able to relax into the cushions of the sofa instead of vibrating tensely beneath the blankets. 

All things considered, it wasn’t too long before Barry felt his eyelids beginning to droop.  _That’s all I’ve got for now,_ he typed.  _Hope you’re having a good trip!_

He hit send and let his head fall to the pillow, phone slipping from his hand as he crashed back into a restless and uneasy sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. Also, a brief shoutout to my beta for looking this one over and for her feedback about Barry and Iris' conversation, which helped me get through a bit of the chapter that I'd been struggling with. 
> 
> I couldn't resist the opportunity to give Becky Sharpe a cameo as the Mercury Labs receptionist. She was only in two episodes but I really liked her, and she deserved better than what she got. That's what AUs are for, though! At least in this fic, she's safe and happy. 
> 
> I know a lot of people are missing Len, including me, but there's good news - the next chapter will be nothing but Len! It's time to see how his and Mick's vacation is going, now that things in Central are beginning to heat up. ^^


	34. The Thaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I’m back again. I’ve been doing my best to get this chapter ready to post by today, because as of two days ago, By Any Other Name is officially two years old! I like honoring the anniversaries of my projects when I can, even if I did get the dates flip-flopped this time. I posted the first chapter of this fic on March 4th, which I genuinely forgot about until I double-checked dates this morning and realized that I didn’t actually post this fic on March 6th like I thought I did. Silly me. Regardless, here’s a belated anniversary update with plenty of Len, as promised. 
> 
> I’d also like to take a brief minute to reflect on year two of writing this thing, because it’s been a fantastic time. This fic is now far enough along that it’s either at the halfway point or has already passed it – as I get deeper into part two it’ll become easier to tell for sure, but we’re moving along. There are times when I do get daunted by how much is still left to write, but a lot of progress got made and I’m happy about it. I wrote fifteen chapters during the fic’s first year, and eighteen in the second – and most of year two’s chapters were longer than the early installments. By Any Other Name more than doubled in length, and I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be able to keep sustaining that level of output into year three! 
> 
> I’m really looking forward to what’s next on the horizon, but I also want to say thank you to everyone who’s been a part of making this fic so much fun for the past two years. Your kudos and comments have added tremendously to my enjoyment of this story, and I’m excited to continue sharing it with you.

In the darkness of his room, Len opened his eyes. 

A quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table was enough to confirm his suspicions.  The glowing red numbers read 5:23 AM, too early to get out of bed but an improvement over the last two nights they’d stayed at the cabin.  He’d managed to sleep for an uninterrupted six hours this time. 

Len wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but he could already feel his brain beginning to come online.  He sighed inwardly, resigning himself to several hours of quiet resting in bed.  It wouldn’t be as good as sleep, but laying there with his eyes closed would do Len good even if his overactive mind was busy churning through data. 

There was so much to sift through that it wasn’t surprising it kept him awake. 

Len knew that parts of his personality were well-suited to investigative work.  He was meticulous and observant, and had honed his natural talent until he was able to piece fragments of data together into a coherent picture.  His drive and analytical skills were what had seen him through his early days as a beat cop, and had led to his promotion.  When he went through phases of disillusionment and had difficulty focusing on the ideals that had brought Lisa and him to police work in the first place, Len knew how to fall back on those skills.  He was always at his best, at his sharpest, when he had a puzzle to solve.  But there were still times when things got out of hand. 

At first, piecing together the mystery of the Flash’s identity had been invigorating.  Ever since he’d come onto the scene, the Scarlet Speedster had been at the center of everything that had happened in Central City.  Now that Len knew his identity, he was in a position to get to the bottom of the mysteries that had been lurking on the edges of his perception. 

The problem was that the net Len was casting?  It was wide.  No sooner had he answered one question to his satisfaction than three new ones would take its place, sprawling outward in a growing labyrinth of secrets. 

And Barry Allen was at the heart of it all. 

Len cracked his eyes open as the beginnings of an idea bubbled up from the depths of his subconscious, reaching for the pen and notebook that he’d left on the bedside table.  Suppressing the random flashes of insight was a task that bordered on impossible, so Len accommodated in what ways he could.  Most times, writing down the idea that disturbed his sleep was enough to loosen its grip. 

Or, Len thought, sighing inwardly as his pen hovered over the page, the opposite could happen. 

The idea that had woken him up was nebulous and half-formed at best, a tendril of thought about Barry’s time in Starling City and what it might mean for how the Flash had gotten his start.  But as Len put his pen down and started to write, his mind began pulling in everything he knew about Barry’s relationships to people in Starling, cross-referencing them with what he knew about the Flash’s history. 

There was no way Len was going to be able to sleep after this, so he might as well do the thing properly.  He sat up in bed and turned on the lamp, closing his eyes briefly against the light before returning his attention to his small notebook. 

Facts – Barry had lived in Starling City for several years.  He’d been living there when the Arrow had first become active, and had presumably met the vigilante before he’d gotten superpowers of his own.  They’d maintained a close enough working relationship that the Flash hadn’t hesitated to share his secret identity with the Arrow.  Len suspected that Barry wouldn’t have done so unless he already knew the Arrow’s identity, which meant they’d interacted in a civilian capacity. 

Not long ago, Barry’s friends from Starling City had paid a visit.  Len had met them.  And the Arrow’s brief period of activity had coincided perfectly with their arrival and departure from Central City. 

Len frowned.  Of the three visitors, two of them had been men – but one of them had been famous.  And the Arrow had started disguising his voice long before the Flash had adopted the tactic.  If the Arrow was a well-known public figure, it would make sense for him to hide his voice as well as his face. 

And if Len remembered correctly, Oliver Queen had also been stranded on a hellish island in the North China Sea for five years.  His rescue had been well-publicized, and many people had speculated on how exactly the playboy son of a billionaire had managed to survive so long away from civilization. 

Maybe he’d learned how to use a bow. 

Len dragged a hand over his face.  So Oliver Queen was probably the Arrow, which was – unsettling – but did at least explain how he knew Barry. 

Not that Barry’s relationship to Oliver Queen was something that required careful puzzling, but apparently that was where Len’s thoughts were going this morning. 

Len stared at the wall for a minute before turning to look at his alarm clock with a sigh.  It was now 6:12 AM.  He’d only been awake for forty minutes and he was already looking forward to going back to bed. 

He weighed his options.  Since sleeping was out of the question, he could either continue to lay here in the dark or he could get out of bed, put on some clothes, and make a pot of coffee in time to watch the sunrise. 

When he thought about it like that, the choice became easy.  Len rolled out of bed and dressed quickly before opening the door to his room and stepping out onto the landing.  A quick glance at the door to Mick’s room confirmed that his best friend was still asleep, so Len shut his door as quietly as he could.  With any luck, he’d be able to keep it that way. 

The layout of the cabin had proven unexpectedly useful, and had probably kept Mick from attempting to murder Len in his sleep.  The second floor was much smaller than the first, almost like a loft, with a staircase that connected the levels.  The two upstairs bedrooms shared a bathroom, but the separate thermostats in each room made up for the mild inconvenience of cramming two grown men around a single sink and toilet.  Granted, the fifteen-degree difference between their rooms was probably terrible for the house’s energy consumption, but such was life.  Len couldn’t quite get his room as cold as he liked it, but opening a window in the middle of January would be a bit much even for him.   

The downstairs floor was large and roomy, with an open floorplan that was surprisingly modern considering the house dated back to the 1970s.  Len was willing to bet that the kitchen had been remodeled at least once, even if there were a few chips in the granite countertops.  All things considered, it was a nice place and probably would have been outside their price range for a week-long vacation, if not for one of Mick’s firefighting buddies.  He knew the owner, and had helped them get a discounted rate on the rental. 

Len’s favorite thing about the house was the massive picture window on the south-facing wall.  Reaching from floor to ceiling, it had the best views of the surrounding mountains.  The cabin’s backyard was small, but the dramatic drop in elevation meant that Len could see for several miles if he sat on the window seat. 

There were faint glimpses of light at the horizon, but the sky was still dark enough that Len was confident he’d have time to make coffee before the sun came up.  He poured several scoops of grounds into the old-but-serviceable coffeemaker and added enough water to make four cups, two for himself and two for Mick.  Mick liked his coffee brewed stronger than Len did, but Len didn’t mind.  If he added two ice cubes to his cup, he could cool his drink off faster without watering down the flavor too much.    

While he waited for the coffee to finish brewing, Len looked around the cabin for something to pass the time.  Irritatingly, he found himself coming up short.  He’d organized the shoes in the mudroom last night, the groceries from the day before were all put away, the dishes were already washed, and he’d unloaded the dishwasher before he went to bed. 

Len sighed.  Without something to keep his hands occupied, it wouldn’t be long before his mind started racing again.  He’d reached a dead end when it came to Starling City, once he was able to make a conclusion about the Arrow’s identity.  Without knowing more about Barry’s life there, there wasn’t anything else he could guess, and it wasn’t like Barry was particularly forthcoming about his past. 

Len wrapped his fingers around the handle of a coffee mug, rapping the side of the cup with his other hand as he watched the level of coffee in the pot inch steadily towards the fill line.  He could stay in the house and drink his coffee on the window seat like he had on Saturday morning, but the persistent itch under his skin told him that might not be the best idea.  It wasn’t like he and Mick hadn’t been exercising.  They’d trained plenty yesterday, but that wasn’t the kind of exertion Len wanted at the moment. 

Len put the coffee cup back on the shelf and reached for a thermos.  There were some trails near the cabin that he hadn’t explored yet; maybe a walk would be enough to shake off the worst of his lingering tension. 

Preparing for a hike would also give him something to do while he waited on his coffee.  Len returned to his room and retrieved a pair of thick wool socks, the kind that were uncomfortably warm indoors but would protect his feet once he went outside.  His hiking boots were by the door downstairs; Len spent four minutes arranging his socks so that they weren’t bunched up at the toes and lacing the shoes tightly before returning to the pot to check on the coffee. 

There was still a thin stream of coffee trickling from the filter, but for Len’s purposes it was close enough.  He removed the coffeepot, placing a mug under the machine to catch the drips, and poured a generous serving of coffee into his thermos.  He wouldn’t need to add ice cubes if he was taking the coffee on a hike, but it was going to be bitter as hell without some sugar to put into it. 

He made a mental note to buy some the next time he and Mick went into town.  Mick liked his coffee black, and Len had been in enough of a mood that he’d been willing to partake at the time, but he’d brooded enough.  He needed to tackle his tangled mess of feelings about Barry at some point, even if he’d become keen on avoiding the topic altogether. 

Len scribbled a quick note explaining where he’d gone and left it on the kitchen table for Mick to find.  If his best friend woke and found Len inexplicably missing, he’d worry and try to hide it, which would lead to inevitable sniping when Len returned.  Best to head that off at the pass, since Len wasn’t sure how long he wanted to stay out.  On second thought, it would be a good idea for him to take his phone.  Len got the occasional fleeting bar of reception at the cabin, but he’d been correct in thinking that the Ozarks were a relative dead zone.  He’d kept his phone on the charger regardless, and it would come in handy now that he needed a way to keep track of the time. 

Len swiped Mick’s coat from the coatrack and pulled it on, slipping his phone into the pocket before grabbing his gloves and thermos and exiting the house.  The sharp bite of winter air was refreshing, but predawn temperatures like this pushed the limits of Len’s tolerance.  He’d be fine while hiking, but once he stopped to drink his coffee and watch the sunrise his body temperature would decrease, especially if he worked up a sweat during the climb. 

Len looked across the backyard, narrowing his eyes against the snow glare.  The yard had probably been seeded with grass in warmer weather, but at the border of the cleared space, the plant life quickly transitioned into low, dense shrubs.  That suited Len just fine.  The backyard was covered in snow, but the shrubs lining the path kept the trails clearly visible.  Len would have to watch his footing, but he wasn’t in danger of getting lost as long as he stayed on the main path. 

There were three different trailheads on the property to choose from.  Len chose a trail that seemed to lead up the mountain, and that also had a Forest Service marker affixed to it.  A maintained trail would probably be in better condition than one cut by the property owners. 

After that, there was nothing to do but climb. 

Len kept one eye on the rising sun as he walked through the shrubby landscape, his hiking boots crunching over the fine layer of powder that had managed to accumulate on the path.  The sound of his footfalls was the only noise present.  Few birds sang in winter, and he and Mick were almost certainly the only people around for miles.  They were too far from civilization for any ambient noise to penetrate, and any other sounds were swallowed up by the blanket of snow. 

The lack of noise made Len’s mind seem deafening by comparison, and he found his jaw tensing without his permission.  Logically, he knew that exercise wouldn’t instantly quiet his restless thoughts, but that didn’t mean he was happy about the situation. 

He’d agreed to come to the Ozarks because he needed to get away, but all he’d succeeded in doing was dragging his problems into the wilderness.  He’d been trying to rest, but in the end it was his own mind that always pulled him back to where Barry – and the Flash – were waiting for him. 

Len took a sip of scorching coffee as he continued to slog his way up the trail, increasing his pace until he felt his lungs start to burn faintly with exertion.  Some detective he’d turned out to be.  He hadn’t been able to figure out the Flash’s identity until he’d been clobbered over the head with the evidence, and it wasn’t like there hadn’t been signs.  Barry’s constantly shifting work schedule, his odd absences, his fear of hospitals, his rapid coffee retrieval times… all of it made sense in context, but Len had been quick to dismiss each thing as a separate, unrelated quirk of Barry’s.  Taken all together, they added up to a damning picture if Len had been willing to see it. 

But he hadn’t been.  It had been easier for Len to lie to himself, to see what he wanted to see instead of looking at things in terms of the bigger picture.  And now that he _saw_ the bigger picture, Len was overwhelmed.  Knowing the truth opened up new avenues of understanding, but it also left him at a disadvantage compared to Barry, who’d known more about Len since the beginning.  Part of him couldn’t help shrinking at the idea that Barry might enjoy the mayhem his secret identity had caused, even though he knew on an intellectual level that it wasn’t true. 

What he really needed was for Barry to prove that Len mattered to him.  Len needed Barry to tell him the truth, without him having to force it or fight for it.  The problem was that Len wasn’t sure how long that would take. 

Len was tired of fumbling in the dark.  He wanted to see Barry, not the labyrinth of secrets they’d both helped build. 

A sudden burst of vibrations in his coat pocket jolted Len out of his gloomy reverie.  He jerked to a halt, nearly dropping his thermos before he realized what was going on.  Len flexed his fingers in his gloves, feeling the prickles of heat as the therma-threading activated, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone.  A quick glance at the upper left corner of the screen was enough to explain why the device had suddenly gone haywire.  He’d climbed high enough in elevation that he’d managed to get a bar of signal, and now every missed notification was coming through at once. 

He peeled one of his gloves off and slid a finger down the screen, eyebrows rising as he took in the list of notifications.  Aside from an email alert and a couple of irrelevant reminders, every single notification was from Barry. 

Len thumbed through the notifications again, counting silently.  He had _nine_ missed texts from Barry, all of them sent within a single hour – and if the timestamp was anything to go by, Barry had sent them in the middle of the night. 

Len felt a prickle of concern trail down his spine as he keyed in his passcode.  He’d been strict with himself about maintaining a no-contact policy while he was out of town.  He needed the time to think, and he’d already told Barry he wouldn’t be available, so it wasn’t like Barry had reason to suspect he’d learned anything.  But for Barry to text him nine times, at four AM?  That wasn’t the behavior of someone who was simply lonely. 

The contents of Barry’s messages revealed nothing.  Like he and Len had discussed, Barry had sent him a list of tactics he could work on in training to enhance the effectiveness of his powers.  On the surface, that was all Barry had been trying to say. 

But Len’s instincts nagged at him regardless.  Something wasn’t right. 

He resisted the urge to text Barry demanding clarification.  It wouldn’t come off well, and there was always the chance that Len could be overreacting.  If there was something wrong, he needed for Barry to tell him so instead of making him read between the lines. 

Instead of probing further, Len skimmed through Barry’s suggestions themselves, allowing himself to read them more thoroughly without digging for any hidden meanings.  All of the tips were good ones.  Increasing ice output, improving mobility, moderating the effects of the weather… they weren’t specific strategies, but Len found he preferred these general guidelines over a detailed set of instructions.  Barry knew enough about how his powers worked to offer suggestions, but Len was the one who knew his abilities best.  He’d have to figure out how to push his limits on his own. 

Of course, the laundry list of suggestions brought a lump to Len’s throat for another reason.  Barry had ostensibly been helping Len sharpen his skills for the next time he faced the Reverse-Flash, but the tactics he was suggesting would be useful against _any_ speedster. 

Barry Allen was the Flash, and he was suggesting helpful strategies that Len could use to hurt him.  Possibly even to kill him.  The fact that Len found the idea abhorrent was beside the point.  Barry was essentially handing Len a loaded gun and trusting him not to use it – and how could Len entertain the idea that Barry didn’t care about him, if the speedster was willing to do something like that? 

Len continued walking until he found a clearing, dusting off the large boulder next to the trail with his gloved hand.  He seated himself on the perch and turned to face the rising sun, taking another long drink of his coffee, and allowed himself to think. 

As much as he tried to deny it, all the turmoil that Len was feeling revolved around that small but critical axis.  What did Barry think of him, and why had he hidden his secret for so long? 

Len absently slid the glove back onto his right hand, allowing himself to mull the problem over in a way that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do previously.  At first, the truth of the Flash’s identity had been hard to swallow because he’d turned out to be someone Len already knew.  He’d grown accustomed to thinking of Barry and the Flash as people who belonged in separate pats of his life, but that had never been the reality.  Several times, Len had caught himself _mourning_ the Flash, as if he’d lost an actual person and not merely the idea of one. 

Now, instead of two people who could comfortably coexist, Len now found himself struggling to reconcile the two in his mind.  It wasn’t easy to juxtapose the vigilante and the CSI, the opponent-turned-ally with the man who’d grown to be more than Len’s friend.  The tidy separation between Barry and the Flash had been nothing more than an illusion.  In its absence, Len was forced to confront the depth of feeling he had for a person he was no longer sure he understood. 

The uncanny thing, the part that had Len bubbling over with a tangle of feelings that he wished he could bottle for later examination, was that Barry and the Flash _weren’t_ dissimilar.  They were the same person, and the more Len thought about it, the more Len was able to see them reflected in each other.  The Flash’s protective streak dovetailed with Barry’s fear of losing his loved ones; Barry’s commitment to following his own moral code blended neatly with both the speedster’s penchant for vigilantism and the self-doubts Len knew he harbored. 

And the longer Len thought about their relationship, the more he found he was able to break the distinction down.  He had proof that he was cared for, from both sides of the equation.  _The Flash_ had brought Len coffee at work, and gone to lunch with him and his sister.  _Barry Allen_ had scolded Len for being reckless in the pursuit of the Reverse-Flash.  _The Flash_ had taken a bullet for someone he loved without a second’s hesitation, and then apologized for making Len worry.  Barry kept trying to help Len, both in the suit and out of it, despite his fears and the ever-rising stakes of the metahuman situation in Central City.

Len pulled Mick’s coat tighter around his shoulders, because if he kept following that train of logic… Barry Allen had fought his childhood demon to a stalemate, only to see him slip through his fingers.  He’d chased his mother’s killer for over half his life, only for an accident to turn him into the very thing he’d hunted. 

And in the bowels of STAR Labs, when the Reverse-Flash had Len by the throat, _Barry Allen_ had saved Len’s life.    

Len almost flinched at the memory of that particular incident.  He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it much, but he could only imagine how that scene must have looked to Barry.  It also put the hug they’d shared at the holiday party into perspective.  Barry hadn’t needed to ask anyone for the gory details of what had happened in the STAR Labs basement, since he’d been there to witness it all firsthand. 

Len sighed and took another sip of coffee.  At the end of the day, what frightened him most wasn’t the secrets or the lies.  The longer he sat here and mulled things over, the more confident he became that Barry _would_ tell him, and in fact had been trying to find the right way to go about it.  Once they cleared the air, Len was cautiously optimistic that their communication would improve.  They’d fought about things in the past and had come to better mutual understandings because of their disagreements.  That wasn’t what had Len so anxious. 

No, what frightened him was the fact that he and Barry knew each other far better than Len had realized.  Knowing the Flash’s secret identity gave Len twice as much data to work with.  He’d seen Barry make questionable decisions and act with complete disregard for his own safety, but he’d also witnessed Barry’s transition from thief to vigilante firsthand.  In fact, Len had actively encouraged it.  And in exchange, Barry had seen Len’s willingness to bend the rules when it suited him.  He’d seen _Len’s_ poor judgment calls, and on more than one occasion had been hurt following Len’s advice. 

Barry had seen Len make promises he couldn’t follow through on.  He’d seen Len _fail,_ and cover up the consequences of his failure using lies of omission.  The aftermath of the fight at STAR Labs sprung immediately to mind as an example.  Once Len had learned that the Reverse-Flash had stolen the tachyon prototype from Mercury Labs, he’d made the conscious decision to avoid telling Barry the bad news, only for him to reveal it to the Flash. 

He’d also told the Flash that the Reverse-Flash had broken into Len’s apartment and threatened Lisa.  No wonder the Flash hadn’t taken that news very well.

Len shifted uncomfortably, but forced himself to set aside his feelings of shame for the time being.  He and Barry had both hidden things from each other, and as a consequence of that Len hadn’t been able to put up a front the way he would have liked.  It was harder for him to admit to his mistakes than it was for him to pretend to be infallible, especially in front of people he cared about, but Barry had seen his plans go sideways and hadn’t judged him for it.  He’d continued to trust and support Len regardless.

Len bit his lip and looked down at his hands, snug in the gloves Barry had given him for Christmas, and sighed.  He wasn’t sure what to do next, especially when the outcome of the situation wasn’t entirely in his hands.  Barry’s decisions would influence their future too, but the only person Len could control was himself, even if the aloof detachment he was known for was getting farther and farther out of reach. 

He had feelings for Barry Allen.  He had a soft spot for the Flash.  But what he felt for both of them combined, now that he knew they were one and the same, was far more than Len had bargained for. 

Len shifted on his perch and took a deep breath of the frigid air as he looked out over the mountains.  There really was a nice view of the sunrise here, he reflected as he took a drink of coffee.  Now that the sun was rising, Len could feel the shift in temperature beginning to occur.  It wouldn’t get warm enough to melt the snow up here for quite some time, since it was the middle of January, but there was something pleasant about the faint warmth on Len’s face regardless.  He wasn’t sure if it was the hike, the self-reflection he’d finally allowed, or a combination of both, but Len was feeling better than he had since he’d learned the truth about Barry’s identity. 

Len had half a mind to come back to the same spot in the summer, when the snow had melted, if they could get another rental.  Mountain meadows were something to see, with their carpets of small wildflowers, and he was willing to bet that some of the shrubs he’d passed on the trail were blueberry bushes.  He doubted he’d be able to get away for an entire week, but a long weekend would be pleasant.  Maybe he could take Lisa with him, if Mick ended up being busy, or they could make it a group outing for the three of them.  Len was pretty sure there was a spare downstairs bedroom in the cabin that she could use if she didn’t feel like sharing a room with metas whose rooms ran hotter and colder than standard human preference. 

Come to think of it… If he and Barry got their shit sorted, maybe the two of _them_ could take a weekend.  The city would probably fall apart with both its meta-cop and its resident speedster gone, but it was something to think about.  Len had no idea whether they’d be at a point in their relationship, if they _were_ in a relationship, to make a weekend trip appropriate, but it was startling how much he liked the idea.  They’d be able to train if they wanted to, as long as both of them pulled their punches.  Hiking would be easy, even if Len would need to take measures to avoid overheating. 

Len frowned as something suddenly occurred to him.  Speedsters didn’t handle the cold well.  He’d seen it in combat against both Barry and the Reverse-Flash, and from the way Barry bundled up against the winter weather, it extended into their civilian lives too.  How much of an issue would Len’s powers present if he and Barry did end up in a relationship?  Len and Mick couldn’t sleep in the same room comfortably – would he and Barry have similar issues?  And what about sex? 

Len jerked his mind away from that idea before it could wander too far off the beaten path.  If he started speculating about how their powers would impact their nonexistent sex life, he didn’t trust himself not to lock onto the question with the laser-focus that had been plaguing him for the duration of his and Mick’s vacation.  He shouldn’t be speculating on what it would be like to have sex with Barry when they hadn’t talked about anything yet. 

He and Barry had a long way to go before weekend trips became anything resembling a possibility, to say nothing of _sleeping together_ in whatever ways the phrase presented itself.  

Len’s brief bout of recrimination was neatly sidetracked when he became aware of a distinct tickling in his nose.  He sniffed and removed his glove to rub it, only to wince when he realized his nose had gone numb.  Fishing his phone out of Mick’s coat pocket, he checked the time and grimaced when he saw that it had been over an hour.  Even he wouldn’t be immune to these temperatures forever, and there was a decent chance that Mick would be awake by now. 

If that was the case, they could make breakfast and then get to training.  Thanks to Barry, Len had a few new ideas to try – and thanks to the hike and introspection he’d finally allowed himself, Len was feeling clearheaded enough to focus on making the most of them. 

He finished his coffee as the sun continued its climb up the horizon, then slipped his glove back on and began the trek back down the mountain. 

“About time you showed up,” said Mick’s voice gruffly when Len arrived.  He looked around the corner of the wall to see his best friend seated at the kitchen table with a steaming coffee mug in hand.  “Coffee in the pot was stone cold.  How long have you been awake?” 

“A while,” Len said, shrugging.  He pulled off Mick’s coat and hung it on the coatrack.  “Hikes are a good way to watch the sunrise.” 

Mick shot him a pointed look.  “Did you leave some of your angst up on the mountain?”

Len took his time removing his shoes and socks, placing them upside-down on the heating vent to dry.  “Some of it,” he conceded.  The walk _had_ helped to clear his head, even if the turmoil hadn’t dissipated entirely. 

“Good,” Mick said, nodding.  “Funny as it is seeing you with your knickers in this much of a twist, it’s a vacation.  You’re supposed to relax.” 

Len knew the other man didn’t mean anything by it, but couldn’t help bristling slightly at Mick’s comment.  It wasn’t like Len hadn’t been _trying_ to sit back and take it easy.  He’d had a lot on his plate even before figuring out that Barry was the Flash.  He figured he had at least some justification for a couple of restless nights. 

Len said nothing as he pulled on his slippers and walked into the kitchen.  He kept one eye on his friend, biding his time until he saw Mick take a long drink from his coffee cup.  “By the way, Oliver Queen’s the Arrow,” he said. 

Mick choked and sprayed coffee all over the table.  “Goddammit, Lenny,” he gasped.  “Warn a guy.” 

Len’s lips twitched.  He poured himself another mug of coffee before handing Mick a paper towel from the dispenser.  He seated himself at the table beside his best friend, propping his feet up on the chair across from him.  “You didn’t ask me how I knew,” he said, still smiling as he looked out the picture window at the mountains. 

“Don’t need to,” Mick grunted.  “You’re gonna tell me either way.”    

Len snorted, but Mick did have a point.  “Barry and Oliver Queen know each other from when Barry lived in Starling City,” he said, watching his friend’s face from the corner of his eye.  “The Flash and the Arrow know each other.  The Arrow and Oliver Queen show up in Central at the same time, ergo Oliver Queen is the Arrow.” 

Mick nodded.  “Makes sense.  That what woke you up this morning?” 

Len resisted the urge to sigh, since Mick was right.  “Drink your coffee,” he said instead, pushing out his chair and climbing to his feet.  “I’m making some scrambled eggs.” 

“There’s pepper jack in the fridge,” Mick said. 

“I’m not putting pepper jack on all the scrambled eggs,” Len said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.  “There’s perfectly good hot sauce on the counter.” 

“Food tastes better when the heat’s cooked in,” Mick said with a shrug.  “But you’ve got a point.  Any ham left from yesterday?” 

Len opened the fridge and checked.  “Not much.  Just a couple of slices.  We’ll need to head to the store before long.  Training works up an appetite, and I have some new things I want to try.” 

Mick tilted his head.  “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.” 

Len set about whisking the scrambled eggs and allowed his mind to drift.  He’d done most of the cooking on the trip so far, mainly because he’d been antsy and desperate for things that kept his brain and hands busy.  Mick was an excellent cook, if a bit too reliant on spice for Len’s preference, but he hadn’t minded ceding the meal prep to Len. 

As he poured the eggs into the pan, Len couldn’t help thinking about how _domestic_ this whole scene was.  He and Mick had been friends for years, but he knew how their friendship sometimes looked to outsiders.  It would be easy to mistake them for a couple if anyone saw them like this, chatting over their morning coffee while Len cooked breakfast. 

Len didn’t give a damn what other people thought of him and Mick.  Still, he wondered if he and Barry would achieve a dynamic like this, with the same easy level of comfort in each other’s presence.  The idea of working side by side in the field with the Flash was exciting, but if Len had to choose between that and mornings like this, there was no question as to which he’d prefer. 

He found himself thinking back to their trip to Daily Bread, and the massive plate of food that Barry had eaten during the holiday party, as another puzzle piece slipped into place.  Between his speed and his healing factor, Barry probably had the metabolism of a hummingbird, and the appetite to match.  No wonder he’d always been so easy to bribe with food.  Kid was probably starving half the time. 

Not that Len minded the prospect of having an eager recipient for all his cooking.  He wasn’t the biggest fan of his possessive streak, but one thing he didn’t mind was the way it drove him to look after his people and make sure they had everything they needed.  If that meant cooking a larger-than-standard portion of scrambled eggs in the morning, Len was a bit startled to find he was highly in favor. 

Len wondered when, exactly, he’d allowed himself to make the leap from concerns about secret-keeping to speculation on the details of a nonexistent romantic relationship.  He didn’t recall giving himself permission.  But here he was, regardless. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair.  Len and Mick ate their ham and eggs and drank their coffee while looking out the picture window at the steadily brightening sky.  It was shaping up to be a day of good weather, and the sunlight was bright enough that the snow-glint from the lawn was casting its own light on the glass.  Len glanced at the thermometer stuck to the window, and his eyebrows rose when he saw that the temperature had climbed above freezing.  “Warm out there, for January,” he commented, glancing at Mick.  “I’m done eating if you’re ready to train.” 

Mick stacked his plate on top of Len’s in lieu of an answer.  “Want me to help with the dishes?”

“I’ve got ‘em,” Len said, picking them up and carrying them to the sink.  “It takes you longer to get dressed than me.”  All Len would need before he could go out again was a new pair of wool socks.  His hiking boots would still be damp inside, but he’d have to put up with it.  At least he was unlikely to get frostbite. 

By the time he and Mick stepped outside, the sun had done its work on the small backyard.  Len’s feet met little resistance as he stepped out onto the snow, breaking through the surface crust more easily than they had when he set out for his dawn hike. 

“So what’re we going for?” Mick said.  Len’s lips twitched at the sight of his friend’s getup; in addition to his heavy coat, Mick was wearing a sweater, a thermal undershirt, and a pair of snow pants that he’d stuffed into his boots so tightly they bunched up at the bottoms.  Then again, Len wasn’t in much of a place to laugh.  He’d be in similar shape when summer came to Central City, and it was easier to put on extra layers than it was to take them off. 

“I got a few texts from Barry while I was up the mountain,” Len replied.  Mick’s eyebrows rose, but Len ignored it.  “He had some ideas for increasing my effectiveness at close range.  I need to work on increasing my damage if I’m going to do anything in hand-to-hand combat against a speedster.” 

Mick nodded.  “Makes sense.  You gonna build off the frosted fingertips you can already do?” 

“That’s the plan.”  Len took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching as a layer of ice spread over the surface of his hands.  “Speedsters heal fast, but the cold slows them down.  If my hands are iced, my punches might be enough to phase them.” 

Coating his hands and arms in ice required a different kind of precision than Len’s ice bolts, and it wasn’t as easy an adaptation as Len would have liked.  He’d always preferred ranged combat.  The distance between him and his target made it easier for Len to keep a level head, whether he was firing a gun or using his powers.  There was a part of him that enjoyed the challenge of facing down a strong opponent, and all the self-discipline in the world hadn’t been enough to suppress it.  The curl of satisfaction in his gut as a blow hit home was ugly, but every attempt to rip that vicious streak out of himself had failed.  So he lived with it, as best he could, but there were times when it was a challenge. 

Len had a sinking feeling that he’d only become truly comfortable with his powers if he became comfortable with _himself,_ but that was an uphill battle.  It was easier to focus on winning the fight in front of him than preparing for the long haul, even if he’d pay for it later- 

A snowball hit Len in the side of the head. 

For a second, Len’s senses were shocked into focus as the cold, damp snow slid beneath the collar of his shirt.  “What the fuck,” he said, turning to Mick and enunciating his words precisely, “was that?” 

Mick shrugged.  There was already another snowball packed tightly in his gloved hands.  “You were taking too long.  Reverse-Flash won’t give you time to armor up.” 

“I almost had it.”  Len’s focus on his powers had slipped when the snowball had collided with his head, but it was returning with a vengeance.  Now that Len was annoyed, he found he was able to coat his hands in ice much faster.  _Wonderful._

“Keep working on it,” Mick countered before tugging one glove off with his teeth.  “But we’re _both_ supposed to be training.  How am I supposed to practice if you don’t give me shit to melt?” 

Len could see a faint heat shimmer beginning to form around Mick’s ungloved hand as his powers warmed the air around it.  The snowball in his other hand remained unaffected, and Len nodded.  “You’ve been practicing.” 

Mick threw the snowball, and Len deflected it with his arm.  The damp snow spattered across the front of his short-sleeved training shirt, making him grimace, but it was better than being hit in the face a second time.  “Someone implied I needed better control,” Mick said, removing his other glove.  “So I worked on it.  Now stop overthinking things and let’s spar.” 

Len and Mick were evenly matched when it came to a fight, and had been long before either of them got powers.  In a way, sparring was what had brought them together.  Mick had been one of the counselors at the self-defense classes Len had enrolled Lisa in, once he’d been able to take custody of her.  Mick had insisted on teaching him as well, and those Thursday afternoons had quickly laid the grounds for a friendship.  They’d kept the practice up as they got older, both for nostalgia’s sake and for more practical reasons.  Knowing how to defend themselves had been both a point of pride and a necessity, especially in Len’s line of work.  The frequency of their bouts had dropped off over the years, as both of them had sought new people to train with.  It was easy to fall into a rut when you sparred against the same partner for years. 

Now that they were honing metahuman abilities instead of punches, the familiarity came in handy.  Len and Mick knew each other well enough that they didn’t have to focus on the ins and outs of fighting.  Instead they could devote their attention to their powers. 

The icy terrain may have given Len the home field advantage, but it also gave Mick plenty of ammunition to work with.  Melted slush was an aggravating ranged weapon, and Mick’s barrage of half-melted snow forced Len to maintain his cold field in order to keep from being drenched.  The refrozen ice was sharp enough to leave cuts, and several times Len felt one sting across his arms.  Grimacing, he focused on the ice covering his hands, thickening and reinforcing it before allowing it to creep up his arms.  He couldn’t completely encase his arms in ice if he wanted to retain mobility, but he could protect himself up to the elbow from flying ice shards. 

Mick didn’t give Len long to enjoy the success of his strategy.  Abandoning his long-range approach, he drove in with a hit that Len was forced to deflect with an ice-coated arm.  He gritted his teeth as Mick maneuvered out of range of his retaliatory blow.  Armoring his arms and hands in ice would make his punches more effective against speedsters, but none of that would matter if he couldn’t land a hit.  He needed to boost his maneuverability somehow if he was going to compensate for his slower movements and limited range of motion. 

He took a step backward, his boot crunching through the thin layer of ice, and found himself contemplating the beginnings of an idea.  “Hang on a second,” he called to Mick.  “I need to focus.” 

Mick halted obligingly, and Len turned his attention inward.  In theory, what he was trying to do shouldn’t be too difficult.  He’d mastered the skill of firing ice bolts from his hands long ago, and the cold field he’d learned to generate proved that he was capable of sustained applications of his powers.  All he needed to do now was combine the two. 

Len slammed his palms together, cracking the ice on his hands and letting it fall away in chunks.  “If I fall off the mountain, don’t laugh,” he said to Mick, then fired a blast of cold at the snow in front of him. 

The effect was immediate.  As soon as the blast impacted with the snow, the surface solidified into a crust strong enough to support his weight.  Len walked forward, cold still streaming from his fingertips and extending the platform as he moved.  “You ever watch the winter Olympics?”

“Sure,” Mick replied, tilting his head. 

“Lisa and I watch them every year.  Speed skating isn’t the most popular event,” Len said, continuing to advance over the ice, “but it’s an impressive one when you think about it.  The average speed of an Olympic speed skater is thirty miles per hour.  It’s nothing compared to a speedster, but if I can figure out how to pull this off, it’ll give me an edge.  And that might be all I need.” 

Len shifted his weight and pushed off the ice, feeling a surge of triumph when he slid forward several feet without overbalancing.  Obviously there would have to be some adjustments before he could turn ice skating into a viable combat strategy.  Len’s hiking boots were the wrong footwear for a training exercise like this.  They were designed to add traction, not to allow him to control his momentum on slippery surfaces.  He’d have to practice in different shoes, or in his socks if need be, until he mastered the finer points of directing himself, but he was content for the time being.  He had a new idea to work on, and it had somewhere to start.  In and of itself, that was satisfying. 

“Nice,” Mick said, nodding.  “What’ll Red do when he sees you skating after him, the next time you meet up in costume?”

“The next time I see Barry in the Flash suit, we’ll be on the same side,” Len said firmly.  “But I imagine he’ll be surprised all the same.  I’m looking forward to telling Lisa.”  His sister had taken ice skating lessons for years, and Len had no doubt that she’d get a kick out of watching him flail like a duck on a frozen pond. 

They returned to their regular sparring after that.  Len focused on shielding his hands and arms with ice while Mick practiced his targeted offensives, melting through Len’s armor whenever he was able to land a hit.  By the time they were both ready to call the session, Len was feeling both more confident and pleasantly exhausted.  Maybe he’d be able to take a nap this afternoon, to make up for the substandard sleep he’d gotten the night before. 

Len and Mick stomped the snow from their boots and took them off in the mudroom before trailing back into the kitchen.  Len wasn’t surprised when his best friend immediately made a beeline for the sink, cranking the temperature as warm as it would go and shoving his hands under the stream of water.  “Much better,” he said, nodding in satisfaction. 

Len saw a curl of steam start to rise from the water and suspected that Mick was using his powers.  “Plug the sink and heat the water until your hands thaw out,” he suggested. 

“Nah,” Mick said.  He turned the water off.  “Don’t need to waste the water.  I need a shower anyway.” 

Len nodded.  “If you use all the warm water I’ll be annoyed.”  He didn’t actually take ice baths, contrary to popular belief, and lukewarm water was always pleasant after a workout. 

He would have said as much, but a beep from the mudroom drew his attention.  Len turned his head to look for the source of the noise, and his breath caught. 

There was a blinking red light on the cabin’s phone, and Len would recognize the number on the caller ID anywhere. 

“That’s Lisa’s cell,” Mick said, frowning. 

“She must have called while we were training.”  Len picked up the phone and hit redial, not bothering to see whether or not she’d left him a message.  If there was something going on, he wanted to hear from her, and he couldn’t ask an answering machine questions. 

Fortunately, whatever emergency was happening in Central, it wasn’t enough to keep Lisa from answering her phone.  She picked up on the third ring.  “Lenny, has the cabin got cable?” she said without preamble. 

“No,” Len said, confused.  “Why?” 

“Because you’ll want to see what was on the news in Central today,” Lisa said grimly. 

Len and Mick looked at each other, and Len covered the receiver of the phone with his hand.  “Go shower,” he said.  “We’ll head into town when you’re done.” 

Mick nodded before vanishing upstairs, and Len returned his attention to the phone.  “We’re heading into town for groceries,” he told his sister.  “We can check the news while we’re there.  But what’s happened?  Was there a metahuman attack?” 

“Not this time,” Lisa answered, which made the hairs rise on the back of Len’s neck.  “It’s worse.  It’s about Harrison Wells.” 

Len’s stomach sank as she filled him in.  “We won’t make it into town in time for the twelve o’ clock news,” he said.  “But there’ll be reruns, I’m sure.” 

“It’s a big deal,” Lisa said, and Len could hear the sympathy in her voice even over the cabin phone’s scratchy connection.  “Hang in there, alright?  Mick too.” 

They chatted briefly for several minutes before Lisa got off the phone with a murmured goodbye.  Len stood there with the receiver in hand before quietly replacing it in its cradle. 

He needed to see the broadcast for himself in order to know the true extent, but it seemed like things really had gone to shit the minute Len had left Central City. 

Harrison Wells had dropped a bomb via live television interview, and only time would tell what things would look like when the dust settled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It’ll be back to Central City for Barry’s perspective on this morning in the next chapter, but it was fun to get back into Len’s headspace for a while and see what he and Mick were up to. The main focus will still be on Barry for a while longer, but there won’t be any more three-chapter gaps without any Len. He’s still processing things, and he needs time in the limelight too. There were a lot of songs on my playlist for this chapter, but “Waiting For You” by Grizfolk and “Catherine” by Magic Man were the ones that stuck the most. 
> 
> I decided to talk more about this at the end of the chapter so that the first author’s note wasn’t a mile long, but I’ve also finally done what I’ve been meaning to do for a while and created [a writing blog](https://cardinalstardust.tumblr.com/). It’s a bit sparse on content currently because of how new it is, but I’ll be posting on there about progress on this fic and my other WIPs, along with the occasional bonus drabble. There won’t be a ton of Tumblr-exclusive writing, but if you’re curious about what I’m doing and don’t want to slog through all the memes and cat pictures on my main blog, it’s a good place to go. It also has a link to a ko-fi that I’ve set up, if anyone out there has the means and desire to leave anything in a virtual tip jar. 
> 
> I based the layout of the mountain cabin on an actual place in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the Appalachian Highland Science Learning Center. It’s a former private residence that was donated to the park and converted into a visitor education center, but visiting scientists are allowed to stay in the house itself if they’re doing research in the park. I was lucky enough to get to spend a few nights there during my research semester in college, and the sunrises really are beautiful. If you ever get the chance to visit, I can’t say enough nice things about the place. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and sticking with this story! You’re all fantastic and I appreciate the hell out of you.


	35. The Sunday Paper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening everyone! It's been a while but I'm back with another update. For some reason I found this chapter really challenging, even though it's got scenes that I had a fantastic time writing. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up soon, but I'm moving to a new house and have costumes to get ready for con season, so updates might stay sporadic for the next bit. Here's hoping I have plenty of time to write, though - the next chapter is something I've been looking forward to for ages! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented on Chapter 34! I went back and reread your comments several times when I was in need of inspiration, and I love hearing your thoughts on the dynamics between the characters. Last chapter felt like a lot of Len talking to himself and not much action, so I was glad that people seemed to enjoy it.

Barry was only five minutes late to the leasing office of the first apartment complex, an achievement considering how terribly he’d slept the night before.  He’d managed to doze off in the end, but hadn’t managed to stay asleep for longer than a few hours at a time. 

He checked his Converses for signs of friction damage and was relieved to see that his super-speed commute to the apartment complex hadn’t scorched the soles.  New shoes would be a good birthday present come March, but he still needed to get by until then. 

Bette was waiting for him inside, along with a smartly-dressed woman who Barry guessed was the leasing manager for the property.  “Good morning,” Bette said, nodding to Barry over what looked like a cup of coffee. “There’s a Keurig in the office if you want something to drink.”  

“I just wish it would do something to me,” Barry sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.  “Sorry I’m late, by the way – are we allowed to take coffee into the apartment with us?” he said, looking over at the leasing manager.  

“Of course,” she said, nodding back at him.  “Once you’ve fixed your drink I’ll show you both to the apartment.” 

As Barry fiddled with the Keurig, he could feel Bette’s eyes on his back.  “Are you alright?” she said quietly. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”  

“I had a lot on my mind,” Barry admitted.  He dumped three packets of sugar into his cup and stirred it absentmindedly.  “We caught a new metahuman yesterday, and it led to us finding out some really skeevy stuff about Doctor Wells – and about the particle accelerator explosion.”  Briefly, he filled Bette in on the details, minus the parts about Hartley Rathaway’s murderous revenge quest. They had a tour to go on, and Bette was looking glum enough.    

“I’m sorry,” Bette sighed when Barry finished his story.  “That couldn’t have been easy to hear.” 

Barry set his coffee stirrer down and glanced at Bette over his shoulder.  Her mouth was downturned in a grim line, but there wasn’t as much shock in her expression as Barry had been expecting - or anger, considering what her powers had put her through.  “You don’t look as surprised as I thought you’d be.” 

“I’m not,” Bette admitted.  “Surprised, that is.” She stepped closer to Barry and lowered her voice.  “When I first made the decision to go after General Eiling, Doctor Wells met me by the elevator.  He knew what I intended to do. He could have tried to stop me, but he let me go.” She pressed her lips together.  “At the time I thought he was doing me a favor by respecting my wishes, but I’m not so sure anymore.” 

Barry took a deep breath.  “You’re saying that Doctor Wells knew you wanted to kill someone, and were willing to die yourself in the process – and he didn’t stop you?”  

“I could be misinterpreting things,” Bette said, her shoulder twitching in a half-shrug.  “But that’s what it seems like in hindsight.” 

Barry swallowed and nodded before returning his attention to his coffee cup and snapping on a travel lid with unsteady hands.  “There’s no way to prove that unless he tells me on his own – not without me revealing that we’re still in contact,” he said quietly.  “That’s not something I want to do, even if I do want answers.” 

“I don’t want that either,” Bette said immediately.  “I’ll be keeping my anonymity for as long as I can, if I have my way.”  

“Are you two all settled?” the leasing manager said, and Barry immediately straightened.  “If you’re ready, we can start the tour.” 

“Born ready,” Barry said in response, smiling at the woman and praying that the expression looked at least a little bit natural.  

The apartment complex wasn’t massive, but it was nice, and Barry forced himself to set the Dr. Wells problem to the side for a few minutes and enjoy the normalcy of it.  The grass was cut, the ornamental trees and bushes were trimmed, and there was no trash laying around on the ground. It was too cold for anyone to be using the pool, and probably would be for several months longer, but the apartment did have one.  Barry wasn’t sure how often he’d use it, but the option would be nice. He didn’t see many residents out and about, but that wasn’t surprising considering the weather. A couple of people did wave at them as they approached the building where the unit was located.  Barry waved back, deciding to take the friendly interaction as a good sign. 

“This building has had some recent renovations that might interest you,” the leasing manager said as she unlocked the front door of the apartment.  “Within the past two years, all units have received new carpeting and appliances. I’d like to draw your attention to the in-unit washer and dryer especially.”  

When the door of the apartment swung open, the three of them took off their shoes by the door before stepping into the living room.  Barry turned around slowly, taking the space in. It was large enough for multiple sofas, which would come in handy if he or Bette ever invited people over.  He wasn’t a huge fan of the window – it was a first floor apartment, after all – but some curtains could take care of privacy issues while still letting in plenty of light.  

The kitchen adjoined the living room off to one side.  It was a bit smaller than Barry would have liked – he and Bette wouldn’t have room to put a table or chairs, even if they decided they wanted them.  On the other hand, if they did end up wanting a dining table, there was enough space in the living room that they’d be able to fit something. There was also plenty of counter space for preparing meals, and all of the appliances looked like they were in good shape.  Barry opened the refrigerator, oven, and dishwasher before turning his attention to the stove. “It’s a gas top?” he said, reaching cautiously for one of the dials. “I’ve never used one of these before - I had electric in my last few places.” Clarissa had a gas stove at her and Martin’s new house, but he’d only cooked there once, at the holiday party.  

“You’d get used to it,” Bette said.  She flicked on one of the burners with a gloved hand, and a small blue flame instantly sprang to life.  “It’s easier to control the temperature of food when you’re cooking, and they don’t go out during power outages.”  

Barry tilted his head.  “That’s a good point.” He wasn’t about to let a freak winter storm or supervillain-induced power outage stop him from being able to cook a hot meal, if for some reason he wasn’t running around trying to solve the problem as the Flash.  

It didn’t take Barry long to get a handle on the layout of the apartment.  There were two bedrooms located on either side of the living room, one with an attached master bath and the other with a second bathroom located nearby.  The washer and dryer were tucked into an alcove next to the second bedroom, which would be convenient for doing laundry but had the potential to be loud at night.  At the same time, that was something that he and Bette could easily circumvent by laying down a few house rules, which he was confident they’d be doing regardless of where they ended up living.  

Barry pushed open the door by the dryer and stepped into the second bedroom.  It was smaller than the master suite, but Barry was home so seldom that he had a feeling it wouldn’t matter much.  There was space for a large bed, especially if he tucked it into the wall closest to the window – he’d always found sleeping in corners to be comforting.  He’d have plenty of space to store his wardrobe, between the closet across from the laundry alcove and the dressers he could get out of storage to put here.  And if he wanted a small TV of some sort, there was a cable hookup conveniently positioned right across from where he wanted his bed. 

The longer he thought about it, the more he could actually picture himself living here.  

Barry ducked out of the bedroom and returned to the living room, where the leasing manager was waiting.  “I’ve got one question,” he said. “What’s the apartment policy on drilling things into the walls? I want to hang up a blackout shade, and those usually have to be wall-mounted.”  

The woman nodded.  “Drilling on your own isn’t permitted in the leasing contract, but if you schedule a maintenance request, someone will install it for you.  The same goes for any appliance repairs.” 

“How fast is the turnaround time for repairs?” Barry said.  

“It varies, but it’s typically within twenty-four hours,” the woman replied.  “We also have people on call for emergency repairs if something happens outside of standard business hours.  All the specifics are in the leasing contract, which you’re welcome to read over if you’re done looking at the apartment.”  

She handed Barry her tablet, and Barry sat down on the floor in the living room to read it over.  The first speed-read didn’t raise any red flags, and actually answered a few of the questions he’d been planning to ask – particularly the one about separate leases.  The lease was a year-long lease, but he and Bette would be signing separate leases that totaled to the listed price of the apartment. The master bedroom’s lease was also more expensive than the lease for the second bedroom, which would make Barry’s wallet breathe a little easier as long as Bette didn’t mind it.  

Barry waited a few minutes to make sure his speedy readthrough of the contract didn’t alarm the leasing manager, then rose to his feet and went to find Bette.  He ran into her in the master bathroom, fiddling with the knobs on the sink. “The leasing manager gave the contract to read over. I’m done with it if you want to take a look,” he said, holding out the tablet.  

Bette took it from him gingerly, touching a careful finger to the screen; when nothing started glowing purple, Barry saw her shoulders slacken.  “Thanks,” she said. “Did anything in the contract jump out at you?” 

“It looks pretty standard to me,” Barry said.  “The main thing I noticed is that the contract specifies separate leases for each bedroom, which is fine with me.  The master is a bit more expensive, though.” 

Bette nodded.  “That makes sense.  I spent enough time in my room at my last place to make it worth my while, unless you’ve got any objections?”  

“To be honest, I was hoping you’d want the master,” Barry said, smiling.  “It would’ve been a little hard on my wallet, and I’m not home much between my two jobs.  Plus it’s closer to the kitchen.” 

Bette’s lips twitched.  “Twenty fewer feet to the kitchen?  For a speedster?” 

“Every little bit helps when you come home starving at one in the morning,” Barry said, the smile on his face growing until it was almost a grin.  It was a relief to joke around about something so normal, after the night he’d had. “But I’m serious – unless you still want to go to the other place and take a second look, I feel good about signing a lease for this one.”  

“Are you sure?” Bette said, her eyebrows raising.  “The other apartment had a balcony.”

“I know,” Barry said, shrugging.  “But this one is… nice. The apartment complex is nice, the people seem friendly, and this space has everything I need for a good price.  And I think it would be a bit better for you location-wise.” 

“The shorter bus ride would be nice.”  Bette nodded. She glanced toward the door of the bathroom for a second, then returned her focus to Barry.  “But you were worried about accessibility the last time we talked about picking a place.” 

For a second, Barry stared at Bette in confusion – then he realized that the leasing manager had followed them into the master suite, probably because Barry had walked away holding her tablet.  He also remembered that he’d once stated a preference for an apartment with a balcony so he could better disguise his comings and goings as the Flash, and was happy that Bette had remembered even though he hadn’t said anything about it since.  “This one is on the first floor, though,” he said, trying to figure out how to word his change of heart without giving anything away to the leasing manager. “And the other one might make coming and going a bit easier, but… I like the idea of having a space where I don’t feel like I have to be on the run all the time.”  

At the end of the day, it was the truth.  Barry would have to be vigilant about keeping his new address a secret, lest the Reverse-Flash come calling the way he had with Len, but he didn’t want to make housing decisions based solely on how easy it would be to prevent people from getting the jump on him.  Letting his paranoia rule his life wasn’t what Barry wanted, not when he was supposed to be making a fresh start. 

Fortunately, it seemed like Bette understood.  She nodded once before turning to the leasing manager.  “Then we’ll take this one.” 

For a second, the leasing manager looked startled by the abrupt turnaround.  Then she smiled. “That’s wonderful news. If you’re done looking around, I’ll take you both back to the office and get you to fill out a leasing application.  Once we do a basic background check, we should be able to get the two of you all set up.” 

Barry nodded, suppressing the tiny flutter of nerves he felt at the mention of a background check.  He’d been careful to make sure that there was nothing incriminating in his criminal record, but his leasing history was a bit unusual due to the time he’d spent in a coma.  A background check would also put Bette’s newly-constructed identity as Jane Conway to the test. He stole a glance sideways at her, but her expression revealed no emotion but interest.  Either her poker face was just that good or she was confident in the skill of her forger. 

He knew better than to ask her anything while they were still in the leasing office, but once they were on the pavement outside Barry turned to Bette.  “Are you worried about the background check?” he said quietly, darting a glance at the leasing manager to make sure she wasn’t in hearing range. “You didn’t seem nervous at all.”  

“I’m a bit nervous,” Bette admitted, shrugging, “but I’ve got to try.  Jane Conway didn’t turn up any red flags when I found my last place, and my identity got me through a background check for my new job.  There’s always a chance that something could go wrong, but I’m trying not to dwell on it.” 

Barry had to hand it to her – he didn’t envy the path that Bette had ended up following through life, but he did admire the way she was able to take the pitfalls in stride.  If he was able to muster some of the same composure, maybe everything happening in his own life wouldn’t feel quite so overwhelming. 

Of course, now that the prospect of actually signing a lease was an immediate concern instead of a future hypothetical, it was suddenly occurring to Barry just how much there was to do if they were going to prepare.  “I can’t believe I didn’t think about it, but we’re going to need furniture,” he said. “I haven’t had time to shop – I’m not even sure I own a bed, to tell you the truth.” 

“I have that much covered, but you’re right that we will need things,” Bette said, nodding.  “Do you know what you still need to buy? I can keep an eye open.” 

Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’m not actually sure what I own in the way of apartment furniture,” he admitted, feeling his face redden slightly.  “I gave up my apartment in Starling City when I was in my coma – my rent payments were on autodraft, but since there was no way of knowing when I’d regain consciousness, a friend of mine talked to my foster parents and my landlord and got permission to have his younger sister take over my lease.  She needed to move out, so it turned into a win-win situation for both of us. A lot of my stuff got moved to a storage unit, so I can probably call a moving company in Starling and arrange to have it transported here. I don’t know what’s in the storage unit, but I’m willing to bet most of my big pieces of furniture are there.”  If he played his cards right, Oliver might even be willing to foot some of the bill for the transportation. Barry would have tried to go himself, but there was no way he could leave Central City for long enough to make a six-hundred-mile drive with all of his worldly possessions in tow – not with Len on vacation and his team at STAR Labs on high alert because of Hartley.  

“That’s a good idea,” Bette said, nodding slowly.  “I’ve got furniture of my own from my place in Keystone, but most of it is for my personal living space.  The person I was living with had her own furniture and kitchen supplies, and she didn’t mind me using what I needed.”   

“I’ll talk to Oliver when I can, and let you know if there’s anything we need to buy,” Barry promised.  “Are you doing anything later tonight? Work is going to be crazy today, but I could probably grab coffee afterwards.”  

“I’d love to some other time, but actually,” Bette said, a small but goofy smile taking over her face, “I have a date tonight – the girl I’ve been talking to on the metahuman forums agreed to meet me.  We’re going to a karaoke bar she likes and getting drinks. I hope it goes well.” 

“So do I,” Barry said, grinning in response.  “That’s awesome that you two are finally going to meet.  Do you know each other’s names yet?” 

“Not yet,” Bette said, fiddling with a strand of her hair.  “We’ve swapped pictures, so I know what she looks like, but I wasn’t sure whether to give her my real name or my false one.  Under the circumstances it didn’t feel right to ask for hers.” 

Her smile dimmed a bit, and Barry put a hand on the sleeve of her jacket.  “Do you want some probably-hypocritical advice?” he said. A bit of the good humor returned to Bette’s eyes, and she nodded.  “Tell her your real name, if you trust her not to give you away. Take it from someone who’s still trying to come back from a dishonest start with the person they’re interested in,” he said, his lips twitching ruefully.  “If you’re in a position to tell the truth right away, I’d say to go for it.” 

Bette nodded.  “I take it the policeman you’ve got your eye on doesn’t know about your double life?”  

“He’s got no clue,” Barry sighed.  “And what makes it worse is he’s met me in uniform too.  We’ve fought before, but we’re working together on a couple of important metahuman cases.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he and the Flash are  _ friends,  _ exactly, but he definitely likes both versions of me.”  After all, Len had gone so far as to call the Flash a partner – he wouldn’t have said something like that if he wasn’t fond of the speedster in spite of his better judgment.  

“There’s only one version of you, Barry,” Bette said.  She hesitated before reaching out a gloved hand and clapping him on the shoulder, and Barry blinked in surprise at the contact.  “You’re the same person whether you’re in the suit or out of it, and if Leonard Snart can’t see that you’re a good guy, he’s not as smart as I thought he was.”  

Barry’s jaw hit the floor.  “How – how exactly did you know that I’m interested in Leonard Snart, specifically?”  

“I had my suspicions, but your reaction confirmed them just now,” Bette said.  When Barry continued to stare at her, she shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not well acquainted with all of the CCPD’s employees, but I’ve met Leonard Snart.  He was the officer who intervened the night I tried to kill General Eiling, and I’ve never forgotten that. He kept me from doing something I’d have come to regret – and he saved my life when Eiling tried to drop the building on my head.”  

Barry nodded.  “I remember that.  I was upset about what had happened, but he tried to make me feel better even though he was on the verge of passing out from heatstroke.  He’s good people,” he said, unable to keep the smile off his face altogether. “But what made you positive it was him?” 

“To be honest, there are a lot of conversations about you two on the metahuman boards,” Bette said, and Barry sucked in a sharp breath.  “There aren’t a lot of metas who operate in the public eye the way the two of you do, and you’ve definitely got fans. A lot of the people who talk about you have taken sides, but there’s a small number who are convinced the two of you have more in common than your jobs would have people believe.”  

“Wow.  That’s – a lot to process.”  Barry fiddled with the hem of his shirt, still more than a little stunned – it was nice to hear that Cold versus Flash wasn’t the unanimous belief, but it would be bad news for his secret identity if more people realized that the two of them were close.  Len’s day job was a matter of public record, and it wouldn’t be impossible for some savvy blogger to piece together the fact that he and Len were coworkers. He wondered if there was any way Iris could drum up speculation about the Flash’s identity via more conventional channels somehow.  It was a long shot, but some misleading information about him might be enough to keep the online metahuman community off his scent. “I’ll admit I’m curious about one thing, though,” he said. “Have  _ you  _ ever talked about me?  On the forums, I mean.”  

Bette shook her head, a tiny smile playing across her lips.  “I’ve made sure to stay out of those discussions. I don’t always have the best poker face, and there’s always the chance I might say too much.  People might realize that we know each other, and that’s definitely something I’d rather keep secret.”

* * *

When Barry walked through the front doors of the CCPD, he did so with trepidation.  Dr. Wells had told him to expect an interesting day at the office when they’d talked the previous night, but he’d never actually told him what version of  _ interesting  _ to prepare for.  

But as much as he’d been trying to keep an open mind, he still pulled up short at the sight of the mass of people in the lobby.  For a wild moment, he thought there had been another hostile takeover, like when Eiling had come to town – except the only clothing item these people had in common was a white laminated press badge.  With a jolt, Barry realized that Iris was standing in the crowd, engaged in conversation with a stern-looking man in a dark gray sport coat. He was also wearing a CCPN press badge, and Barry wondered if he was the mentor Iris had mentioned when they’d talked on the phone the day before.  

Barry shivered.  A press conference could mean a lot of things, but in the wake of Dr. Wells’ pronouncement last night, he had a feeling he knew why everyone was here.  His suspicions were confirmed when he climbed the first few steps of the staircase to his lab. Dr. Wells was already here, sitting behind the podium that Captain Singh used for his press briefings.  There was no way that Barry would be able to talk to him, not without attracting the attention of every single news reporter in the room – to say nothing of how it might look to his coworkers, if he started chitchatting with the pariah CEO of STAR Labs in the middle of the precinct.  

Fortunately, it looked like Barry had options.  Cisco was standing in the far corner, wearing a dress shirt and slacks and locked deep in conversation with Lisa Snart.  Barry barely managed to avoid wincing in sympathy – he knew Lisa didn’t have a good opinion of STAR Labs, given what they’d put her brother through.  He just hoped that Cisco working for Dr. Wells wouldn’t be enough to change Lisa’s mind about him, especially since Cisco couldn’t explain the details of what he did with STAR Labs without giving away his involvement in illegal metahuman vigilantism.  Len might have put together that STAR Labs was connected to the Flash, but Barry was willing to bet he hadn’t shared that information with Lisa. 

On the other hand, if he  _ had  _ talked to Lisa, Barry and Cisco were toast.  Cisco and Caitlin were the only common points of reference between Barry’s civilian life and his extracurricular activities, and Lisa was smart.  If she was able to connect the Flash back to STAR Labs, chances were good that she’d be able to put together at least part of the truth. 

It would have been safer to avoid talking to Lisa until after the press conference, but Barry couldn’t just leave Cisco to her tender mercies, and he needed to know what was going on.  He’d have to risk Lisa’s ire if he was going to get answers. 

“Can you guys fill me in?” he said, stepping into their line of sight with a small, apologetic wave.  Lisa turned to face him immediately, which was fortunate – if she’d been looking at Cisco, she would have definitely had some questions about the look of relief that washed over his face as soon as he’d caught sight of Barry.  “I didn’t know there was going to be a press conference today. And what’s Doctor Wells doing here?” 

“I’m as surprised as you,” Lisa said.  “Wells called Captain Singh this morning – he said he had, and I quote, ‘crucial news for the public regarding the particle accelerator.’  Of course,  _ Cisco  _ might be able to tell you more.”  She glanced sideways at the engineer.  “After all, he works for the man.”

Barry barely managed to suppress a cringe at the pointed tone in Lisa’s voice, but resisted the urge to step in between them.  “That’s not fair,” he said instead. “Wells is his boss, but that doesn’t mean he knows everything.” 

“It’s okay, Barry,” Cisco said.  His shoulders were hunched slightly, but he didn’t look as bad as Barry had feared given the night he must’ve had. “I know I’m the best person to ask, but he hasn’t said a word about this.  All he asked was for me to ride to the CCPD with him and to field any calls or emails that arrived in the meantime.” 

Lisa bit her lip.  “What I want to know is why he’s holding this press conference at the CCPD and not at STAR Labs.  I know FEMA classified it as a hazardous location, but if Wells still has employees there, it should be safe enough for members of the press.”  

Barry said nothing, but he was pretty sure he understood Dr. Wells’ motivation for holding the conference somewhere else.  If Dr. Wells had invited the press to STAR Labs, they would have had their work cut out for them explaining the tech they’d developed for the Flash’s use – or hiding every sign of the speedster’s presence before the press had arrived.  

He, Cisco, and Lisa watched the milling crowd in silence for several more minutes before Lisa abruptly shook her head.  “I’m going to find Captain Singh,” she said before departing. 

Cisco watched her go, then groaned and dropped his head.  “Barry, I’m a dead man.” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Barry protested.  “It’s not fair if she holds your employer against you, especially since what happened wasn’t your fault.”  

“I mean, it’s not like I can really blame her for it,” Cisco sighed.  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I might not have caused the accident, but I was part of the team that turned her brother into a metahuman.  If I were in her shoes, I might blame me too.” 

Barry wanted to argue further, but decided it wouldn’t gain him anything.  At least Cisco wasn’t placing the blame squarely on his own shoulders anymore – at least that was something.  He rested a hand on Cisco’s shoulder in a wordless gesture of support. “Where’s Caitlin?” he said, changing the subject.  “Did she stay behind?” 

He’d meant the subject change as a distraction, but when Cisco’s shoulders hunched further, he realized it had backfired.  “She’s probably still in the Cortex working with Martin and Ronnie,” he said, and Barry’s heart dropped into his shoes. “They were the only ones in the building last night when Hartley escaped.”  

_ Goddammit.   _ “Did Hartley hurt them?” Barry demanded.  “Did it destabilize them worse?” 

“We don’t know,” Cisco said, shaking his head.  “Caitlin’s done a good job of patching them up so far, but whatever happened to them, it’s left them scrambled.  They’re fighting for control again, and they aren’t responding as well to the antipsychotics as they did last time.  Doctor Wells suggested increasing the dosage, but we don’t know what that’ll do to their minds,” he said, biting his lip.  “But if we  _ don’t  _ do something, we run the risk of them bursting into flames and becoming Firestorm again.  We can’t even confine them to the Pipeline if there’s an emergency, since we still don’t know how Hartley got out.”  

“Hartley’s spike was that thorough?” Barry said, keeping the volume of his voice controlled with effort.  “How the hell did it even get into our systems?” 

“I don’t know,” Cisco said.  “But you know what I did notice?”  He glanced around, then leaned closer to Barry.  “The spike Hartley dropped – it wasn’t exactly the same, but it was a lot like the malware we got the last time someone hacked into our systems.”  

If Barry thought he’d felt sick before, it now felt like he’d had ice injected directly into his veins.  “You mean – the Reverse-Flash?” he whispered. “Could Hartley have been helping him all along?” 

“It doesn’t seem like something Hartley would do, but I’m not as sure as I used to be,” Cisco whispered back.  “I never would have taken him for a supervillain, but here we are. And if the Reverse-Flash promised to kill Doctor Wells for him, who’s to say that Hartley wouldn’t have taken him up on it?”  

Barry’s first instinct was to shake his head and deny it.  Hartley hadn’t struck him as the kind of person who would make a deal with a ruthless killer like the Reverse-Flash – but at the end of the day, Barry didn’t really know Hartley at all.  He’d seemed scared and vulnerable underneath his bravado, but what if it had all been an act, to get Barry to drop his guard? 

If it  _ had  _ been an act, Barry was ashamed to admit that it had worked.  He’d thought Hartley beaten, or at the very least contained safely, but now it seemed like he’d been biding his time all along.  “Do we know what data he accessed when he was mucking around in our systems?” he whispered. 

“I haven’t been able to trace his path,” Cisco sighed.  “He’s covered his tracks too well – I’m not sure who’s been giving him hacking masterclasses, but he’s out of my league now.  I’m going to keep looking, but it’ll take time.” 

“Once we finish up with things here, I’ll put you in touch with Felicity,” Barry promised.  “She’s the best hacker I know – maybe the two of you can find what you’re looking for if you work together.”  

Dr. Wells wheeled forward to the podium, effectively ending their window of conversation, but Cisco shot Barry a grateful smile as the two of them turned to listen.  

They weren’t the only people who had noticed Dr. Wells’ approach.  The low buzz of conversation among the press staff quickly died away until the room was effectively silent.  Barry glanced over at Iris; his best friend had managed to make her way to the front of the crowd and was looking on with a somber expression.  

“I want to thank all of you for agreeing to come on such short notice,” Dr. Wells began.  “It’s a testament to the efficacy of journalism in this city, how quickly the press is able to arrive on the scene when there’s a hint of a story.  I hope my announcement today will make the trip worth your while.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose – it was hard to tell through his even tone, but it almost sounded like Dr. Wells was making fun of the journalists.  Judging by the narrowed eyes he saw around the room, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. 

“I’m sure all of you well remember the night that the particle accelerator went online and changed the course of history as we know it,” Dr. Wells continued.  “Many of you were also present for my subsequent press conferences, once it became clear that some of the people living among us had taken on far greater burdens that night then the common person residing in our city.”  He paused and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I’m here today to tell you what I omitted during those earlier briefings. As you’re all aware, the Norris Commission released a ten-volume official report on the particle accelerator explosion, declaring it a tragic but unforeseeable accident.  However, this isn’t strictly true. I was warned by a colleague that there was a chance the particle accelerator might explode. I chose to ignore his warning, and in doing so I caused irreparable harm to our city. The choice, and the responsibility for that choice, fall on my shoulders alone. My remaining staff were unaware of the risks, and it is in part due to their urging that I am here today speaking to you.”  Dr. Wells’ gaze briefly lingered on Barry and Cisco before returning his focus to the press. “At this time I’m going to open the floor to questions.” 

Hands shot up all over the room, but Iris’ mentor took a step forward out of the crowd, drawing Dr. Wells’ attention.  “Mason Bridge with Central City Picture News,” he said. “Do you plan to rebuild the particle accelerator?” 

“Always a pleasure, Mason,” Dr. Wells said, inclining his head briefly.  “However, I believe I saw your new protegee’s hand first. Do you have a question, Miss West?”  

Barry drew in a breath as Dr. Wells turned the full force of his attention on his best friend.  It was good that Iris was getting the opportunity to speak, he reminded himself – it wasn’t as if Dr. Wells had any reason to hurt her, or the ability to do it at an event like this.  And if Iris was alarmed at the prospect of suddenly having Dr. Wells’ full focus, she didn’t show it – Barry was better-acquainted with the man’s intensity than most, but Iris was handling it like a pro.  “I’d like to restate my colleague’s question,” she said firmly, and Barry’s eyebrows rose. “Do you intend to rebuild the particle accelerator, now or at any point in the future?” 

Dr. Wells stared at Iris for just a second too long before his lips quirked up into a smile.  “No, Miss West. Even if I could get the funding and public backing, that ship sailed long ago.  I will not rebuild the particle accelerator.” 

Dr. Wells continued to field the press’ questions, but with Iris out of immediate danger, Barry found his attention drifting to the rest of the city.  Barry hadn’t reacted well to the news that the particle accelerator explosion could have been prevented, but he knew Dr. Wells and the STAR Labs team better than any other metahuman had reason to, with the possible exception of Hartley Rathaway.  He’d still been upset when he learned the truth, even though the people who’d told him the news were people he loved. How much worse might he have felt if the STAR Labs team were complete strangers to him? 

He was willing to bet that there were plenty of metas in Central having a worse day than him. 

After a brief hesitation, Barry pulled out his phone and sent Bette a quick text.  She was almost definitely at work by now, but if she knew about the press conference, Barry was willing to bet that she’d head straight to the metahuman boards.  Hopefully such a shocking bit of news wouldn’t put too much of a damper on her date tonight – or on Len’s vacation. With any luck, Len’s lack of cable and cell phone reception would let him avoid the news long enough to get  _ some  _ rest.  

When his phone buzzed, Barry glanced down, a bit surprised to receive a response from Bette so quickly – except it wasn’t Bette, it was Iris.  He looked out over the crowd of reporters, but Iris didn’t have her phone in hand. She must have disguised her texting efforts so that no one in the press could call her on it.  

The message was short and to the point.   _ Coffee after this?   _

_ For sure,  _ Barry replied.   _ I’ll meet you at Jitters.   _

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and returned his focus to the press conference as best he could, even though at this point the only thing he wanted was for it to be over and done with.  

After getting permission to leave early from Captain Singh and saying his farewells to Cisco, Barry made his way to Jitters via public transit.  It was a snail’s pace compared to his usual mode of transportation, but he didn’t want to beat Iris to the coffee shop, and riding the bus gave him some much-needed time to think.  He usually preferred to be alone when he needed to decompress from a stressful day, but there was something soothing about being surrounded by people living their daily lives in spite of everything going on in the city.  

Despite his lengthy detour, Barry still made it to Jitters before Iris.  He ordered a large hot chocolate – plain, since the seasonal menu had cycled out since the last time he’d visited – and sat down on the sofa to wait, scrolling through various news sites and reading the thinkpieces as they appeared.  Some of the names on the articles were ones he recognized from Iris’ descriptions of her colleagues at CCPN. Barry found himself nodding along with Mason Bridge’s article stressing the importance of continued public input in the sciences – it was well-written and engaging, and he could see why Iris respected Bridge’s work as much as she did.  

It was beginning to get dark when Iris finally walked through the front door of Jitters.  “I’m so sorry,” she groaned, collapsing onto the sofa. “Things were crazy – I couldn’t get away.”  

“Don’t worry about it,” Barry said.  He held out his hot chocolate for her to take.  “Listen – no offense, but you look dead on your feet and you need sleep, not coffee.  Take my hot chocolate, it’s still warm. I’ll get another one.” 

“You’re a lifesaver, Barr.”  Iris took the cup without any further protest, a testament to how exhausted she was – not like Barry needed any help to be able to tell, when it was written all over her face.  

The barista was already in the middle of making another large hot chocolate when Barry approached the counter to order.  “This one’s on the house,” she said, looking over Barry’s shoulder to where Iris was sitting. “I saw the press conference on the TVs during my shift.  Iris did great.” 

“She really did,” Barry said, nodding.  “Thanks a lot for this.” Feeling oddly choked up, he crammed a few dollar bills into the tip jar and retreated to the safety of the sofa.  

For a few minutes, Barry and Iris drank their hot chocolates in silence.  “So work was hell,” Barry finally ventured. “Were there any specific things that bothered you or was it just bad all around?”  

Iris sighed.  “I didn’t mean to sound like I hate my job.  I love the writing, and it’s amazing to have my finger on the pulse of what’s happening in Central, but the people can be jerks and there’s nothing I can do about it.”  She took a sip of her drink before meeting Barry’s eyes. “Some of the guys in Finance were making doom-and-gloom predictions about what the press conference would do to the rate of metahuman attacks.  They didn’t care that what they were saying was awful, or that it would be really bad for the public perception of metas if they printed a story like that. They were just after the headline. I’m the most junior member of the team, but I wish I had enough clout to be able to tell them off properly.  They’re supposed to be professionals – they should know that the things they’re saying and writing can be harmful to the city.” 

“And then if there  _ is  _ any increase in metahuman attacks, they’d be able to take credit for making an accurate prediction – whether the attacks have anything to do with the press conference or not.”  Barry sipped his hot chocolate, too lost in thought to be bothered when the drink scorched his tongue. “And there’s no way to verify why some metas choose to use their powers to commit crimes without asking the metas directly-”

“-which fewer people will be willing to do if everyone buys into the idea that metahumans are predisposed toward criminal activity,” Iris finished.  “It’s a feedback loop.” 

“It’s bullshit is what it is,” Barry said, shaking his head.  “Don’t get yourself fired or anything, but thanks for saying what you could.”  

“It’s no less than what anyone else should have done.  I wanted to write an opinion piece about metahumans and public perception, but I couldn’t figure out how to put things into words.  It also didn’t feel like it was my place,” Iris admitted. “I’m  _ not  _ a meta, and without having talked to more of them directly, I’ve got no idea how they really feel about what’s been going on.”

Barry nodded.  Metas being in the public eye would also mean that his own behavior as the Flash was going to be under closer scrutiny – it was a good thing he’d already decided to clean up his act.  “Do you ever wonder what Central would be like if people didn’t know about metahumans?” 

Iris bit her lip.  “Aside from the fact that it would be impossible to explain  _ you… _ I’m not sure.  There’s people out there who are afraid of metahumans and what they can do.  It doesn’t make them right, but at least we have an explanation for what’s been going on in Central.  The unknown can be just as scary. It might even be worse in some ways.” 

“There’s a lot of scared metas out there now, I bet,” Barry said, nodding.  “Knowing that the particle accelerator accident could have been stopped… that’s heavy shit.  It changed people’s lives forever – whether they see those changes as a blessing or a curse, it doesn’t change the fact that getting powers wasn’t something they chose.  I don’t think things are going to escalate here just because of this press conference, but if there are more pissed-off metas out there in the future?” He leaned into his best friend’s shoulder.  “I honestly can’t say I blame them.” 

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Iris murmured.  “It’ll be our loved ones who are on the front lines if anything happens.  I want the city to be safe, but if anything happens to them-”

“-then we’ll keep them safe,” Barry said firmly.  “We’re going to keep doing what we do best – sticking our noses in and finding answers.  Our jobs make us good at that.” 

“Both of us will be doing plenty of legwork,” Iris said, her lips twitching up in a smile.  

For a second, Barry just stared at her – then he laughed.  It was the first time he’d laughed since he’d left STAR Labs yesterday, and it was amazing how much of a difference it made.  

Maybe there was a chance that things would still work out okay. 

Barry’s phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of the moment.  Making a face, he extracted it – only for his heart to kick into overdrive when he saw the name on the screen.  “I’ll be right back,” he said, glancing at Iris as he clambered off the sofa, almost tripping over his own feet as he did so.  “I really need to take this.” 

“Sure, Barr,” Iris said, her brow creasing worriedly.  “Is it an emergency?” 

“I guess I’m about to find out,” he said, before ducking into the hallway beside the bathrooms.  

For a drawn-out second he hesitated, his heart hammering in his chest with a mixture of dread and anticipation, before he swiped his finger across the screen and took the call.

* * *

As much as Len appreciated the improved cell phone reception in town, it wasn't an adequate substitute for a working television.  He and Mick were doing their best to find workarounds, but the locals weren't exactly making it easy. 

"Run this by me again," he said to the man behind the bar, keeping his voice level in a herculean feat of patience.  "My friend and I are paying customers.  We want to watch the news.  There's a remote sitting on the counter next to you.  Why, exactly, can't you change the channel?"

"We're a sports bar," the man said, eyeing Len nervously.  "The other customers might not want to watch the news." 

"It's the middle of January," Len said.  "There aren't any other customers.  We are the only people here."  Frankly, it was a wonder the place was even open.

"But if other customers come in, they might want to watch the game." 

Len ground his teeth together, but before he could say anything else, Mick slammed a twenty-dollar bill down on the bar.  "Give us two beers," he grunted.  "Gimme the remote and I'll let you keep the change." 

The bartender stammered a bit more but handed over the remote, albeit with visible reluctance.  Mick switched the channel over to one of the local news stations, then accepted his beer from the bartender.  "You told Lisa we made it to town?" he said without looking at Len. 

Len nodded at the bartender as he received his drink, but the bartender didn't make eye contact.  Len curled his fingers around the handle of his pintglass and took a deep breath.  "I told her," he said.  "It's been a busy news day, but she said the local channels have been in reruns.  There should still be something." 

It took some fiddling to find a more mainstream station, but once they did, there was plenty to see.  They weren’t running the full press conference, but Len saw enough clips in between the discussion segments to piece together the gist of what Dr. Wells had said.  

He closed his eyes and took a long drink from his mug.  

For the time being, all Len could manage was to let information wash over him, absorbing it so he could sort through it later.  Len was sure he’d have a stronger reaction at some point. The core tenant of how Len had thought about the particle accelerator explosion, and his own accident, was that it had been a stroke of bad luck.  When the official accident report had been issued, Len had read all ten volumes on his sister’s couch, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot broth through a straw while he tried desperately to reach equilibrium, thermal or otherwise.  

The report had brought Len a much-needed sense of clarity at the time.  Over and over, the point had been hammered home – the particle accelerator explosion was an accident.  There was no party at fault. The disaster couldn’t have been foreseen or predicted. As much as Len’s life had been thrown into disarray, he’d been able to take some comfort in that.  

After all, there was a big difference between an accident and an accident that could have been prevented.  

“Don’t look now, but your boy’s on TV,” Mick said beside him.  

Len shook himself, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear them, before glancing at his best friend.  “What?” 

“See for yourself.”  Mick nodded at the television screen before taking a draught from a glass that was fuller than Len remembered it being.  Len glanced at the counter and saw a second, empty glass sitting beside his best friend. Len’s lips thinned – he hadn’t noticed Mick finishing his beer so quickly, which wasn’t a good sign for either of them – but he obediently directed his attention toward the TV screen regardless.  

They were showing footage of the press conference, but from a different angle; Len supposed this camera must have been from a different news station.  The primary focus was on Dr. Wells, but in the background near the stairs to Barry’s lab, Len saw two faces he recognized. The first face belonged to a sober-faced Cisco Ramon.

The second face belonged to Barry Allen, who looked more drained and exhausted than Len had ever seen him.

Len let out a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on his mug.  “What the hell?” he muttered. Between his glazed expression and the dark circles under his eyes, Barry looked like death warmed over.  Had he slept at all last night? It was a valid question, considering the texts that Len had gotten that morning.

Len frowned as he considered the timeline of events that had led them to this moment.  If Barry had found out about Dr. Wells’ announcement before the press conference, it would have upset him.  It might well have kept him awake last night, or at least pushed him into texting Len those notes on power usage.  

But what if there was more going on?  Len hadn’t checked the rest of Central’s news; he’d been too preoccupied with the press conference to research any further disasters.  But if anything else had happened…

Len glanced sideways at Mick, who was still watching the television intently.  “Will you be okay if I step out for a second?” 

When Mick returned Len’s look, there was a knowing expression on his face.  “Take all the time you need.” 

Feeling simultaneously relieved and chastened, Len pushed his stool back from the bar and grabbed his jacket before stepping out into the brisk winter air.  

It was the beginning of the evening, but the sun set early this time of year.  Len rested his back against the wall of the building and watched the streetlights flicker on for several minutes before pulling his phone out of his coat pocket.  

Up until now, Len had avoided contacting Barry.  He’d done it for his own reasons, to ensure he got the space he needed to think.  It had been the right choice at the time, but this was an exceptional situation. Len had different reasons to worry about Barry now, and a phone call would be reassuring – both for Barry and for himself.  

He selected Barry’s contact, hit the  _ call  _ button, and waited.  

The phone rang twice before Len started to feel nervous.  He’d never had much reason to call Barry before. Most of the time Barry was the one reaching out, and inverting the pattern made Len more anxious than he cared to admit.  

Just when Len was about to give it up as a lost cause, the dial tone cut off and was replaced by a familiar voice. “Hello?” 

Len’s heart seized at the sound, and for a second he allowed himself to close his eyes.  It was good to hear Barry’s voice again, but the strained note in it was further confirmation that all wasn’t well back home.  “Barry. Hi,” Len said, floundering unexpectedly. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m doing good,” Barry said.  Len raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “Iris and I are getting coffee.” 

Len’s eyes widened.  He hadn’t considered the possibility that Barry might have already sought out support from someone else, and the last thing he wanted was to intrude.  “Why did you answer the phone if you were busy?” 

“I haven’t talked to you in a while – and I figured I might not get a chance to call you back later, with the reception being what it is and everything.”  A hint of the more bashful tone that Len had heard several times before crept into Barry’s voice, and Len nodded. That was better. “And I always answer the phone.  Just in case people need me – it’s better to be safe than sorry.” 

Damn.  Len wished he had something reassuring to say in regards to Barry’s paranoia, but the kid had a point.  If anyone was in the position to intervene in case of emergency, it was the Flash. “It’s not an emergency,” he said.  “Mick and I were in town getting dinner and we saw the news. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I should be asking you that,” Barry said with a bleak-sounding chuckle.  “To be honest, I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t see the press conference until later.”

Len tilted his head, surprised.  “Why? It’s important to be informed.  And this impacts me.” 

“I know it does, but I wanted you to enjoy your trip without losing sleep over this,” Barry sighed.  “It’s obviously not my place to decide what you spend your time and energy worrying about, but can you honestly tell me that this isn’t going to keep you up at night even a little bit?”  

Len’s lips thinned.  “No,” he said, forcing himself not to snap.  Barry had no way of knowing that Len had  _ already  _ had several sleepless nights, thanks to what he’d learned about the Flash’s identity.  He was doing his best to help, and their situation was far from ideal. “But in general, if there’s something going on, I’d rather know about it.  Even if it’s ugly.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  Barry sounded pensive, and Len winced internally.  They weren’t talking about their secrets right now, but Barry could still take things away from this call and apply them down the line.  Len didn’t want Barry to internalize anything that would impact what was willing to share, whether it was about his feelings or his identity.  

Barry also wasn’t shooting in the dark here.  His takeaways from the press conference might be different from Len’s, but he was also a metahuman.  Aside from Mick, Barry was the only metahuman friend he had. There was a difference between someone with no stake in the story telling Len how he should feel and a similarly-impacted friend telling Len how  _ he  _ felt.  “Thanks for the concern, but I wanted to ask about you,” Len said, redirecting the conversation back onto why he’d originally called.  “I saw you in the news footage at the press conference. You looked tense.” 

“It’s been a stressful week,” Barry sighed, and Len frowned.  Barry was prone to minimizing, when he admitted to anything at all; his  _ stressful  _ could very well be another person’s  _ disastrous.   _ “Things around the precinct have been tough.  I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I’m worried about the possibility that things might escalate because of the press conference.  There’s already been one attempt on Dr. Wells’ life this week – I wouldn’t be surprised if more people come out of the woodwork looking to get even, now that this is public knowledge.”

Len’s eyebrows rose into his hairline.  There had been an attempt on Dr. Wells’ life?  Now that was interesting – and deeply alarming, considering Barry’s connection to the man.  Barry’s life was already in danger from one vicious killer. The last thing he needed was to end up in the crosshairs of a second.  “Do I need to come back?” 

“No,” Barry said immediately.  “We’re handling it – Joe and Eddie are on the Wells case, and they’re taking it seriously.  If things get worse we’ll call you, but you deserve your rest. Don’t cut it short on our account.”  

Len nodded.  “Fine, but only if you promise to look after yourself.”  He leaned against the wall, feeling the brick solid behind him, and managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.  “I miss you.” The words left his mouth like a confession, and even though he’d expected it, the weight of them surprised him. 

He wasn’t as surprised as Barry, if the kid’s quiet but sharp intake of breath was anything to go by.  “I miss you too, Len,” Barry said quietly, and Len’s eyes widened. “It’ll be good to have you back. But if you don’t mind – I’d like your opinion on something.  What do you think of Doctor Wells?” 

The pleasantly fizzy feeling in Len’s veins turned to ice at the sound of Wells’ name.  He couldn’t explain it, but the thought of Barry being so close to Dr. Wells made his stomach churn, even though Barry should have had nothing to fear.  “Did he say anything to you at the press conference?” 

“He didn’t,” Barry said, and Len breathed a sigh of relief.  “But the fact that you immediately asked whether he had, as if it was a bad thing – that says something about him too.  And you’re not the only person who’s told me lately that Doctor Wells makes them nervous.  I was wondering if I could ask why?”  

Len nodded slowly.  “Aside from a gut feeling?  I don’t like the way Wells uses his power to affect the people around him.  Power can be misused,” he said, considering his words carefully.  “When I look at people in power, I ask myself two things.  One, is the person aware of how much power they have?  And two, is this person someone who will use their power responsibly? I know Doctor Wells is aware of his power and influence.  It’s how he uses it that makes me wary of him.” 

There was a long, lingering silence on the other end of the line.  Just as Len was about to ask whether or not Barry was still there, he heard Barry let out a long sigh.  “I wish that didn’t make as much sense to me as it does. I think you’re right.  Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Len said, relieved he’d managed to say something Barry found useful.  “And Barry.  I don’t know everything about what’s been going on in Central. I know there are pieces I’m missing. But if you need help, please talk to someone.  It doesn’t have to be me.  But find someone you trust.”

“I will,” Barry said, that hint of softness creeping back into his voice.  “Thanks for calling, Len. Take care of yourself out there, okay?” 

“Always,” Len said, and hung up the phone.

Walking back inside the restaurant was harder than Len expected.  He felt like a cup that had been filled to the brim and was now in danger of sloshing messily all over the floor.  Len wanted to pull Barry in his arms and keep him there for a while, city be damned – or, since that wasn’t possible, to curl up in a ball somewhere quiet and wait until he reached some sort of emotional equilibrium again.  

But he couldn’t do either of those things, so Len returned to his barstool and pulled his mug toward himself.  

Len wasn’t sure what he looked like, but he must have been fairly transparent.  The moment Mick looked at him, he arched an eyebrow before raising a hand to flag down the bartender.  “We’re gonna need a basket of fries,” he said. 

Len frowned.  “Mick, what are you doing?”  

“You need to eat,” Mick said.  

“I’m not hungry,” Len protested.  The thought of eating anything, much less something greasy and heavy, was causing his stomach to tie itself in knots.  

Undeterred, Mick reached over the bar, taking advantage of the bartender’s absence to snag several wrapped packets of Saltine crackers.  “Then eat these,” he said. “You look like you’re gonna be sick, and I’m not hauling your ass back up the mountain in this shape.” 

Len wanted to glower at his best friend’s interference, but his heart wasn’t in it.  Mick was just trying to help. He ripped open a packet of crackers and ate them, studiously focusing his attention on the television instead of on Mick beside him.  

To his relief and embarrassment, the crackers did help.  By the time the basket of fries appeared on the counter, Len was feeling steady enough to snag a few of them.  “We could stay in town for dinner,” he suggested. “It’s getting late.” Mick deserved something for his trouble, and the two of them hadn’t talked at all about the press conference.  Len suspected that Mick was mother-henning him in part because it was giving him something to do. 

Besides, eating in town would keep Len from having to cook.  He could get something bland and easy to eat, but when they did get back to the cabin, Len wanted to go to bed.  

“As long as we’re out of here by the time the eight o’ clock news comes on,” Mick said, nodding.  “I’ve had about all I want.” 

Len took one more look at the screen before reaching for the remote.  Barry and Mick were both right. Len had learned what he could about the news back home, but he didn’t need to run himself into the ground.  He needed to trust his people back in Central to cover things – and to call him if things did get out of hand. 

Len turned the television off, picked up a menu, and turned back to his best friend.  “They’ve got nachos,” he said, lips twitching when Mick leaned over to peer at the menu.  “First round’s on me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who wants to see a picture of Barry and Bette's new apartment, I posted [the layout](https://cardinalstardust.tumblr.com/post/172811815888/i-had-a-lot-of-fun-picking-a-floor-plan-for-barry) I used as a reference over on my writing blog! 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I'd love to hear any of your thoughts on this chapter, so if you'd like to leave a comment I would very much appreciate it!


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